Everytime
by kenansense
Summary: Ron and his two best friends died in the Final Battle. Now a mysterious entity is giving Ron a second chance...but it's not easy to save your own life. RWHG
1. The Future Freaks Me Out

**Everytime**

Chapter 1 – The Future Freaks Me Out

I was on fire.

That was the first thing that I felt after I died. The green light never completely faded from my view, but there was something behind it that burned deep within me, burned so much that I couldn't even cry out in pain.

And then slowly, ever so slowly, the pain faded. Somehow, incredibly, it was all going away. The Cruciatus Curse, which the bastard had put on me so many times that I lost count, which every wizard knows requires weeks of recuperation to get over—in a flash of white, everything was gone. And yet I didn't feel better.

The instant the light washed over me, everything was gone. And I mean _everything_. Little feelings that I had never really noticed before, like the feeling of my legs below me or even my magic stretched within me—all gone. And so the absence of pain, which should have been comforting, instead felt even stranger.

The white glow faded from view, and that was when I knew for sure that I was dead. Everything faded to blackness—my vision failed, and I could no longer feel my hands or legs, much less move them. I suppose that my spirit was flying up towards heaven...at least hopefully towards heaven.

And then suddenly the world around me blinked once and disappeared.

I blinked my eyes in confusion. And then it hit me—my eyes! I could see again! But I appeared to be floating in midair, and I still couldn't speak, as I found out when I tried to call to someone.

_Don't call. It will have no effect._

The voice came from nowhere and yet everywhere, resounding throughout my head and reverberating endless times unnecessarily. I would've paid attention no matter what the voice said or how it said it, as long as it was the first understandable thing that had occurred since the monster Avada Kedavra'd me.

I tried again to open my mouth, to say something, but nothing came out. The voice came again, this time soothing.

_Don't try to talk. Just think questions at me and I shall answer them._

_What the hell_? I thought, but did it anyway. _Who are you? Where am I_? were the first brilliant things that rushed out of my cluttered mind.

_That is not important._

_Well then, what is important_? I asked angrily, struggling to keep a hold on my emotions.

_This_, said the voice simply. The backdrop of clouds and sky shimmered, but nothing appeared to happen. That is, until I looked down.

It was Hogwarts. Or at least, what was left of Hogwarts, ever since Lord Voldemort—ugh, that name still makes me shudder—had razed most of it to the ground one damp fall night during my seventh year, when Harry, Hermione and I were still trying to find the Horcruxes. Before the final battle.

Before the end.

But that wasn't it. Because when I looked down, I saw the remaining members of my family standing in the graveyard that I knew was located in the school but that I had never visited, nor wanted to. Ginny, her face streaked with tears and her hair unkempt, leaned the front of her head against a headstone and wept freely. Dad, who Merlin knows had already gone through enough during the war, stared up at the sky, almost facing me, as if to say _why me_? Even Fred and George's normally smiling faces, who could be counted on to liven up the scene during the Apocalypse itself, were instead as serious as I had ever seen them, although they were not crying.

The voice chimed in unnecessarily. _Ronald, this is your funeral._

And that was when it really hit me. I was dead. I was fucking _dead_. And there was nothing I could do about it.

A memory floated up unbidden and terrifying from the depths of my now-ethereal mind. _"Hermione! No, you bastard, you killed Hermione! You took my best friend, you took the girl that I've been nursing a crush on for years, you've taken Mum, and Charlie, and Bill, and—"_

At least I would see her again.

I continued to watch despondently at the scene unfolding before me, a scene that no wizard in the world should have to witness. There was Remus Lupin, who had now lost not only all his best friends but also the man he loved almost as much as a son and any hope of having a happy life with the death of Tonks. Next to him, the wind whipping at her robes, was Professor McGonagall—and she was actually _crying_. She was crying...for me.

The Headmistress of Hogwarts, the sternest teacher that I have ever known in my entire life, the woman who even managed to keep a straight face throughout the funerals of every single hope that the light side had, was bloody _crying _at my funeral.

That felt like the straw that broke the monkey's back, or whatever that Muggle saying was. Either way, I felt extremely sad—like I couldn't take it anymore.

_What do you want with me?_ I managed to ask of the voice. _Why are you making me watch this? What's the point? I've had enough, okay? I've had enough death. I just want to rest. I gave my life for this damned war, and I've earned a rest...to be with Hermione. And Harry, and Bill and Charlie, and Mum._

_Silence_, said the voice, although not angrily, and I found myself listening to it even though seconds ago I felt like my entire world was crashing down around me. _Just watch. There may be something of use to you here._

_Of use_? I asked it, but there was no answer. I know I would've sighed if I could, or rolled my eyes or some teenage crap like that, but I wasn't a teenager anymore, and I didn't have a body anyway. No one who lived through the Second War against Voldemort was a teenager, no matter if they were fifteen when it began like we were. Me, Hermione, and Harry. The Golden Trio.

All dead. Gone forever, and with it any hopes of winning the war. Now Voldemort had almost completely overtaken the wizarding government in Britain, and was expanding to other parts of the world. Muggles thought that the very Apocalypse was happening, what they believed would come with dark angels and fires and rains of brimstone. Thousands of Muggles disappeared every week as a result of Death Eater attacks, and the Muggles had no other idea of what was happening.

And those who knew knew that they weren't far off.

There was Regulus Black, looking the very opposite of his brother with his dark expression and darker robes. Yet his work in finding the Horcruxes had been invaluable in the war, and I silently thanked him, although I knew he couldn't hear me.

And I stared on as none other than Aberforth Dumbledore, who had been the spy at the Hog's Head Pub for decades, rose and walked to a podium behind my headstone, removing a small booklet and reading glasses from a robe pocket.

"Ronald Bilius Weasley," said Aberforth in a solemn tone. Ginny's cries grew louder, echoing throughout the cemetery and scaring several crows sitting on a series of tombstones a few rows over.

"To those who knew him, he was an incredibly brave man, one of the bravest of the Second War. To his family, he was their brother, the one who always cared for them when they were in trouble, the one that wiped away his sister's tears when she was angry, the one who could always be counted on for a laugh, at least if his twin brothers weren't around."

I almost laughed at the thought of Fred and George's indignant faces as I pictured them after hearing that comment. Yet when I turned to face them, I saw only frozen expressions on their faces and a consuming darkness in their eyes. They had seen too much and lost too much in this war.

"To his best friends Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, may they rest in peace, he was simply a best friend. Whenever they were dragged away on some adventure, he would always be right there beside them, fighting for what he believed in. Whenever the atmosphere got too solemn during the Horcrux search, he would be there with jokes and Fred and George's Wheezes to lighten the mood."

There was an enormous snort from behind me, and I turned around and almost lost it again—George was actually _crying_. I don't think he's cried since he was one.

"Harry Potter had planned for him to be the best man at his wedding with his sister, Ginevra Weasley," he said, as Ginny's cries punctuated the air for a moment during the nostalgic silence that followed. "Harry always thought that he and Hermione Granger, their other best friend, would end up getting married themselves once the war was over."

I blushed, at least I would have if I had a body, before realizing just how solemn this funeral was. Didn't his family know that this wasn't what he had wanted? Didn't they know that he wanted them to go on without him, as they had done, albeit painfully, with the other lost members?

And then it hit me. This was what they had been going through at every single funeral that they attended—they just kept it inside, hid it from me. I really hadn't been spending enough time with my family ever since Dumbledore's funeral, and maybe if I had I would actually know what was going through their heads.

I was shocked out of my thoughts when suddenly Aberforth stepped off the podium—the eulogy must have finished. George wiped his eyes on his sleeve and was the first to rise, followed shortly by Fred. Together, arms around each other, they turned and began to walk towards the castle.

Suddenly everything faded to black. _Now listen to me, Ronald Bilius Weasley_, the voice spoke, and I did.

_You are receiving a second chance at life, a second chance to prevent yourself from dying. You can choose to return to any one point in your life and fix whatever events led to your death. One warning, however—you can't simply prevent yourself from going on the Horcrux quest, or from being with Harry during the final battle. Your choices and decisions were every much a part of you as the Killing Curse that ended your life, and can no more be changed than Voldemort himself._

_You now have eighteen hours to prepare yourself. Take your time, and formulate a plan before you choose the time to return. I will be waiting; simply call me when you are ready._

And in a flash, the voice left—I could feel that it was gone as much as I had seen the funeral earlier. All the questions in my mind flowed throughout my head, but after a while they all kept still.

And I began to think.

- - - -

**A/N**- Yeah, I'm starting a new story. Sorry to any fans of Unto Dust Shalt Thou Return, but this just came to me and the idea began to grow. Anyway, thanks for reading, and please review!


	2. Second Heartbeat

**Everytime**

Chapter 2- Second Heartbeat

I pushed myself as hard as I could to think of a solution. I swear that Hermione's ghost was standing there right behind me pushing me on, making me think harder. But when I finally hit the solution, it was so simple that I could barely accept how I hadn't thought of it in the first place.

I was just formulating the final details of my plan when a voice echoed throughout my head. _You have seventeen hours and thirty minutes remaining_, it notified me before fading once again into the blackness.

And then I was ready. I focused my thoughts on contacting—whatever it was that had given me the second chance again, and soon it returned. _I am ready_, I said, more bravely than I felt.

_Already?_ it said, although not seeming even faintly surprised. _You are aware that you have only used half an hour of your time, correct?_

I attempted to nod before realizing that I didn't even have a body, much less anything to nod my head with. _Yes,_ I said, summoning every ounce of my Gryffindor courage to the surface. _Yes. I'm ready._

_Very well. To when would you like to be returned?_

_To...six o'clock. On the evening of June first_, I replied.

_Six o'clock yesterday evening_, replied the voice, and I felt a momentary jolt at the fact that I had been—dead—for almost a day now.

_Good luck_, was the voice's final words before the blackness disappeared in a sudden multicolored swirl, and everything seemed to fade away.

- - - -

The night that I died had begun with a blood-red sunset that had cast shadows over the entirety of Hogsmeade village. Harry, Hermione, and I had sat and rested in the Three Broomsticks, enjoying what we all somehow knew was going to be our last drinks of butterbeer. Rosmerta had kept all the interested patrons out of the pub (a downside of Harry's fame, I guess) and allowed us our final moments of peace. How did we _know_ they would be our final moments? Well, Voldemort himself had told us, of course.

It was just after we had found and destroyed the last Horcrux—Voldemort's snake Nagini. We had lured her away from Voldemort's stronghold—located in the vastness of the now-magically expanded Riddle House in Little Hangleton—and then Harry, the only one of us who had been able to kill, had used the _Avada Kedavra_ curse to rid Voldemort of all but the final fragment of his soul.

That night, we had Apparated back to Grimmauld Place—which we had been using as our temporary headquarters—and prepared for a long night of rest. But that wasn't going to happen, for in the middle of the night Harry had awakened with a sudden jolt, shaken me awake, and then proceeded to explain to Hermione and myself that he had received a vision in the night from Voldemort. Harry had even placed the memory in the Pensieve that had been Dumbledore's final gift to him for us to see. And the very sight shocked us to the core.

Harry's dreams had begun innocently—at least, depending on your point of view—enough, simple pleasant dreams of times he and Ginny had been together. Just when I was ready to explode on the Boy-Who-Lived's sorry ass, though, good old Voldemort had finally shown his disgusting head.

Even in the Pensieve, the face chilled all of us to the bone. "Potter," he had hissed, his foul eyes narrowing to tiny slits.

"You—what the hell do you want?" Harry had finally stammered, looking into his eyes with a braveness that impressed even Hermione and me.

"Nothing," Voldemort had said, the cockiness spreading throughout his face, his mouth twisting into a crooked smile.

"I—I don't understand," said Harry. "Nothing? You've taken Dumbledore, Sirius, Remus, my parents, Cedric, Neville's parents, Mrs. Weasley, Bill, Charlie—and you want _nothing_?"

"Well, I suppose that's a little unfair," Voldemort had replied, the cockiness never leaving his voice. "You see—I simply wish to tell you something."

"And what is that?" Harry had spat.

"If you have any plans to visit Hogsmeade Village, you may want to make them soon," the bastard had spat back, evil oozing from every inch of him.

"What? What are you going to do to Hogsmeade?" Harry asked.

"You will see, Potter, in time," he said. "Now, if you don't mind, I must be going—you will join those filthy parents of yours soon."

"We'll see," said Harry, failing to rise to the bait. "And—why are you telling me this? What do you want from me?"

"Nothing," said the bastard.

"What?" asked Harry. "You—you don't want anything...you just wanted to _tell_ me?"

"That's right," Voldemort said. "Goodbye, Potter, and enjoy your last hours on this earth."

When Hermione and I had emerged from the Pensieve, our first thoughts were synonymous with Harry's—get to Hogsmeade immediately and defend it as well as possible. The Horcruxes were destroyed, Dumbledore's last orders were complete—now it was time for the final battle.

And so we had Apparated out, our one night of rest interrupted, and gone directly to the Minister, Rufus Scrimgeour, warning him of the impending attack on Hogsmeade. Once he had begun an evacuation (although only of the ones that wanted to leave) we went to the Three Broomsticks and stayed the night, preparing for the day ahead.

To our surprise, when we awoke the next morning we found that most of the villagers had remained—some didn't even believe our warnings! After assuring that they didn't want to leave, we went out for one last day in the village before the final battle. Harry was having the worst time of it—being the one who was prophesized to defeat Voldemort must have been difficult, and Hermione and I tried to cheer him up the best we could.

Finally evening arrived, and still no attack. We all got tired of waiting and had gone to the Three Broomsticks for one last drink of butterbeer. The battle had begun soon after, and the clock had read six the last time I had looked at it before Voldemort's attack, making it an ideal place for my attempt to change the past.

And then I had opened my eyes, and there was the Three Broomsticks, exactly as I remembered it before the battle. A cheery fire burned in the fireplace, illuminating the faces of...

And then there they were. Harry and Hermione. My two best friends. One of them the woman who I had had the biggest crush of my entire life on.

Fighting the instinct to throw my arms around them and hug them both tightly, I reminded myself that if I failed in my attempt, I would be dead again in less than two hours.

Instead, I just watched my friends fondly. There was Harry, trying as hard as he could to complete the picture of the tragic hero and prepare himself for death or something equally stupid—at least it had seemed so at first, before the fatal green light had taken him by surprise and spelled the end of the Light's hopes in a single instant.

And there was Hermione, her studiousness still insatiable. She had drunk very little of her butterbeer, but was instead going over an immense book called _The Dark Arts: What You Need to Know_ that we had found in Grimmauld Place's library.

As for me—I simply stared into the faces of my friends, happy just to be alive again and to be there with them. I continued to stare until Hermione noticed and fixed me with a questioning gaze, upon which my ears instantly turned red and I looked away, pretending to be studying the dregs of my butterbeer.

Harry sighed. "This is stupid," he said. "We shouldn't just be _waiting _for him like this. We should be—"

But we would never hear the end of the sentence, because at that very moment the entirety of the pub shook with a force unlike anything I'd ever felt before. Hermione toppled off her stool and onto the floor, and I quickly reached out my hand and helped her back up.

Harry kept his balance perfectly and quickly jumped off the stool, pulling out his wand. He tapped his dragon-hide vest once, trinkets that Scrimgeour had loaned us after being informed of the seriousness of the battle we were about to face. I pulled mine out as well.

"Ready?" asked Harry, instantly transformed from the melancholy boy looking into his butterbeer glass to the Boy-Who-Lived, hero of the wizarding world. I nodded. Hermione nodded.

"Then—let's go," he said simply, and, leaving a cowering Rosmerta behind the counter, we followed him out onto the streets of Hogsmeade.

Although the sun had set completely into the dark sky, the village was still illuminated by the lights of curses, and we were able to follow them to were the main battle was taking place. Several giants were visible over the tops of buildings, but we managed to avoid them as we continued to make our way towards Lord Voldemort for the last time.

Finally we arrived in an open field which was almost completely illuminated by the curses and where the final battle had taken place and finished the first time. I was dripping with sweat by this point, but I did my best to ignore it and focus on the task that was ahead.

And then, just as I remembered, Draco Malfoy, in full Death Eater garb, spotted us and shouted a warning. "Oi! Potter and his pathetic friends have arrived!"

And then the battle began.

Immediately there were three curses flying at Harry and one at Hermione. "_Protego_!" yelled Harry, and a shield sprung up, encapsulating both him and Hermione. The spells dissolved into it harmlessly.

I flew forward, throwing Stunners wherever I saw white masks, which was almost everywhere—we were surrounded by them. Lucius Malfoy stepped forward, and we began to duel.

"Well, well," he said, thinking that I didn't know who he was. "What do we have here? A Weasley...pity that my diary didn't kill your little sister, isn't it? Although I suppose that she's gotten quite pretty now..."

I didn't even let him finish. I brought my wand forward in a flash and wandlessly cast a _Sectumsempra_ hex. Malfoy Sr. simply wandlessly conjured a shield and the hex bounced off, causing me to have to jump to the side to avoid it.

"Temper, temper, Weasley!" he shouted, and I growled and shot another _Sectumsempra _at him, which he dodged easily, turning around this time and firing an _Avada Kedavra_ at me. I quickly dodged, feeling the curse whoosh past my left ear, before casting another _Sectumsempra_. "Got anything else up your sleeve, Weasley? Pathetic!" Malfoy shouted as he dodged the hex.

I brought my wand to my side and let it hang loosely in my hand, preparing to cast a shield or jump to the side whenever it was needed. Malfoy stared me down, not casting any curses. We began to circle each other, wands drawn, each of us attempting to force as much hatred as we could into our gazes. I let my eyes wander slightly—Hermione was succeeding in taking down her Death Eater, and now, having placed him in a full body bind, was dueling another. Harry was too far away for me to see him, but I knew from the last time I had done this that he was okay. So far.

Finally Malfoy snapped and shot a Cruciatus Curse at me. I dodged to the right, but somehow another Cruciatus found me there, and I fell to the ground. Agony beyond agony was now coursing through my veins, overcoming every inch of my body. I don't know how I continued to breathe, but even _living_ hurt by this point. For an instant, I wanted to die again...I wanted to forfeit my chance...

And then the pain was gone. Malfoy, his eyes glittering, stepped forward and shot another Cruciatus at me, but before it hit I suddenly rolled to the side and jumped to my feet, shouting, "_Protego_!" as I did so. Malfoy's Disarming Curse sunk into the shield ineffectively, and once again we were on equal footing.

Malfoy was grunting heavily now, and his taunts had finally stopped. I could tell that he was surprised at the last trick I had shown him—sometimes it helps to have older brothers. I stepped forward as Malfoy missed me with a Body Bind and shot a Disarming Charm at him, which he casually waved his wand and stopped. Fury began to course through my veins. Lucius Malfoy was about to become acquainted with the famous Weasley temper.

And then, off to the side somewhere, shouts began to sound—the Aurors had arrived. Malfoy turned to look, and I almost did before realizing what had happened last time and instead shot a wandless _Expelliarmus_ at him. His face contorted into a look of shock and fury as his wand flew out of his grasp and into my waiting hand.

"_Petrificus totalus!_" I shouted, and Malfoy, Disarmed and taken by surpise, fell to the floor, his legs snapping together instantly. Harry came into view, dueling two Death Eaters at once but smiling at me and shouted words of encouragement as I stepped over Malfoy's useless body and took on one of Harry's Death Eaters. _This hadn't happened before_, I thought happily. _Maybe this will be all it takes to change it!_

I immediately shot an _Expelliarmus _at Harry's Death Eater, and it caught him or her in the mask, ripping it and the upper part of their robes open. I watched in silent anger as none other than Bellatrix Lestrange emerged from the darkness—and suddenly I was on the floor in agonizing pain yet again. The Cruciatus shot pain through every nerve in my body, and I could feel my throat was sore from screaming, but I didn't remember the cries escaping my mouth...

The pain stopped abruptly, and I looked up confusedly. Hermione was standing by my side, and she gave me a smile and a nod as she returned to the fray. I felt something unexplainable rush through me at the sight of her, but I couldn't stop to ponder as Harry was quickly being surrounded by Death Eaters, and this time their master himself was behind them.

Lord Voldemort.

Harry and Voldemort locked eyes, and Harry had put up a shield to deflect Voldemort's curse when I had to turn away and engage another Death Eater. _Keep them away from Harry_, I repeated over and over in my head, my mantra keeping me focused on the task at hand. I deflected a curse from the Death Eater and shot a Jelly-Legs Jinx at him or her, missing by a fraction of an inch but hitting a Death Eater behind me. "Wotcher, Ron!" shouted Tonks from somewhere beyond the felled Death Eater, and I felt a flash of happiness when I recognized her voice.

I had just run to engage another Death Eater when it happened. There was a brief lull in the fighting, and I had already Stunned the Death Eater before I realized anything was going on.

A loud scream of terror was coming from Hermione, and before I could do anything there was a blinding flash of green light.

Hermione's dead body lay in front of me, her face frozen in a determined expression, her eyes wide with terror.

She had taken the Killing Curse for me.

Harry let out a cry as Voldemort began to laugh, and began throwing a frenzy of curses at him. I knew what was coming next, but I couldn't do anything but watch as he was cut down from three separate Killing Curses, one coming from the bastard Voldemort himself.

It was over. Nothing had changed.

_Harry...Hermione..._

I barely moved as the Cruciatus Curse found its way from Lord Voldemort's wand to mine. I didn't care as the pain overwhelmed me yet again, becoming my only world and overwhelming all of my senses. I didn't mind as the curse hit me again and again, and when it was over I was begging for death.

It came in the form of a writhing green light. I took it in the chest gladly.

And then everything went black.

- - - -

-**A/N**- Well, for a change I decided to put the author's notes at the end of the chapter instead of the beginning. I'd like to begin with a thank you to all my reviewers for Chapter 1—

**HaRrYpOtTa15**- Thanks for the compliments, and I'll try to fix that error in the first chapter. Thanks for reviewing—my first reviewer!

**Dumbledor**- Thanks a lot! I'm guessing that by "who is the voice" you mean the narrator—in which case that would be Ron, as you probably could tell from this chapter, lol.

**JnSr**- Wow! Thanks a lot, especially for the "great author" comment D. I really appreciate your review, and hope you enjoyed this chapter!

**Eckles**- Thanks! By the way, I re-uploaded this chapter to fix some small errors and when I realized that I had missed a crucial plot detail...don't you hate when that happens, lol. Anyway...

And now that the review thank-yous are over with, I'd like to say one more thing—this story is not over, and neither are Ron's hopes, so before you flame me for the ending, please consider this D. Thanks for reading, and please review!


	3. Just a Simple Plan

**Everytime**

Chapter 3 – Just a Simple Plan

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Harry Potter. That is owned by J. K. "Owner of Several Small Islands" Rowling.

**Author's Note**: Thanks a lot to my reviewers—

**EE's Skysong** – Whoa...thanks a whole lot. Hope a day after your review is soon enough...XD

**ronandmion4ever** – And again, whoa. I'm flattered that you think that my story is so good. Thanks for reviewing, and I hope that you enjoy the latest installment too!

- - - -

_Your seventeen hour and twenty minute waiting period begins now_, the voice said. _Call me when you are ready to go back again. I suggest you use all of the time available to make your plan._

_What? _I thought, shocked. _Does this mean that I have another chance?_

But the voice had once again retreated into the darkness.

_I had another chance!_ I was amazed. This time I would have to get it right, or I would die forever and so would Harry and the hopes of the wizarding world.

_A loud scream of terror was coming from Hermione, and before I could do anything there was a blinding flash of green light._

_Hermione's dead body lay in front of me, her face frozen in a determined expression, her eyes wide with terror._

_She had taken the Killing Curse for me._

I shuddered—or, at least, I would have if I had a body. The memory had been haunting me ever since it had happened the first time, and its repetition just increased its horrible effect.

And then it hit me. A final, foolproof idea that couldn't fail. It literally couldn't, or else there would be no second chance.

I spent about three times as long as I had previously working on the plan, making sure that it was foolproof. I couldn't have anyone ruining it by discovering what I was up to, and I had to make sure to carry it out at just the exact time. Finally, I was ready.

_Erm—hello?_ I ventured, unsure of how to contact the being that had spoken to me earlier.

Its presence filled my mind immediately. _Are you finished?_ it asked. _Please be aware that you still have—_

_I'm ready_, I thought quickly, cutting it off before it could speak—if what it did could be considered speaking.

_Very well_, came the voice. _To what time would you like to be returned?_

_Two o'clock in the afternoon_, I answered firmly. _The day before I died. _I could've started earlier, but I wanted to make sure that I had enough time.

There was no response this time, nothing to foreshadow the wave of blackness that came out of nowhere, sending me into the void.

- - - -

"—and then Harry'll come at it from the side. That way, it can't get away, not even Voldemort—honestly, Ron, are you even listening?"

My eyes snapped open. There I was, standing in the middle of an open field a mile or two away from the Riddle House. In front of me were my two best friends—and this would certainly be the last chance I had to save them. I once again resisted the urge to give them one of my mother's bone-crushing hugs and instead locked eyes with Hermione, causing her to look away quickly. I smiled and said, "Just resting my eyes, 'Mione. As you were saying?"

Hermione cleared her throat. "As I was saying," she said, "We know Voldemort lets Nagini out to hunt in the fields around the Riddle House. If what Dumbledore told Harry was true, then Voldemort—_honestly_, Ron—should have no idea that we're coming, much less that we destroyed all of his other Horcruxes. With Voldemort employing Occlumency against Harry, he has no way of extracting the information from his mind—especially not now that Harry's learned Occlumency so well," she said, beaming at him.

_I could learn Occlumency as well if I had the most feared wizard in the world after my blood_, I thought bitterly, but said nothing when I realized just how stupid that sounded.

"And just how are we supposed to find Nagini?" asked Harry blankly, unaware of the knowing smile on my face as Hermione turned on him, her magnificent brain working overtime.

"Because you'll broadcast it to her," said Hermione, and Harry almost fainted.

"W—what?" he asked, completely shocked. "Broadcast _what_ to her? And how?"

"It's very simple," said Hermione, slipping into what I like to call "lecture mode", although of course only in my head. "Nagini is Voldemort's familiar, which basically means that she's an animal that amplifies Voldemort's magical power. The bond between familiars and their bonded allows for instant communication of thoughts between them—which is how Voldemort was able to order Nagini around instantly," she continued, and I found my thoughts slipping involuntarily to Nagini's attack on my dad—Harry's scar connection had been all that saved his life that night.

"Anyway," Hermione continued, "that means that, given some work, you should be able to send thoughts to Nagini using your scar connection, Harry. That's what all that work we've been doing on Legilimency was for, in the end—of course, this wasn't the _only _thing, but I had this in mind..." She trailed off, seeing the strange look on Harry's face.

"Hermione, you're bloody brilliant!" Harry cried, sweeping her into a hug. She stood rigid before responding, hugging Harry with a smile on her face. I felt something gnawing at me, some monster inside me crying out, but quickly pushed those feelings downward and focused on the situation at hand.

"Now, Harry, you're going to have to get a picture of yourself, me, and Ron all tied up together on a gravestone," said Hermione, and Harry shuddered at the thought—hell, _I _shuddered at the thought as well, but Hermione didn't notice. "Picture that in your mind. We're going to send that to Nagini to trick her into coming out into the graveyard—"

"Whoa, wait a minute," interjected Harry. "How do we know that Nagini won't go straight to Voldemort with the news that we're down in the graveyard?"

"I thought of that, too," said Hermione quickly. "You see, the main fault of the familiar connection is that it only works one way."

"You mean—Nagini can't tell _Voldemort_ things?" asked Harry, and Hermione nodded.

"The animal mind isn't complicated enough to formulate messages and send them across the link," said Hermione, and I blinked. "Because it lacks sentience, it can only behave subordinately."

I blinked again. "_What_?" asked Harry, his voice showing his extreme confusion.

Hermione sighed. "Nagini isn't smart enough to give orders, only to obey them."

"Well, why didn't you just _say_ so?" asked Harry, and Hermione gave a fake sigh, although clearly amused.

"Moving on," she said, "the hard part is getting to Nagini using your scar connection. You're going to have to use your Legilimency not only to seek out Voldemort's mind, but also to find Nagini's presence within. And then you're going to have to plant the idea in her mind. Do you think you can do that?"

Harry looked uncertain only for a second before nodding. "Yeah," he said bravely. "Just—just keep watch, Hermione, Ron, please. We're too near the Riddle House for comfort."

Hermione and I nodded and assumed positions on either side of Harry. The first time, I had been shocked at the premise that Harry could perform Legilimency without eye contact, not to mention on the most powerful Occlumens remaining in the world. But somehow he must have done it, for within moments Harry was up and on his feet.

"Bloody—bloody hell," said Harry, shaking his head. "That was—unbelivable. The weirdest thing I've ever done, Ron, mate, and that includes sticking my wand up a troll's nose."

I snorted and gave him a nod, too preoccupied with my own thoughts to really know what he was saying. I could see Hermione, however, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder. "What happened?" she asked curiously.

"It was like—it was like I'd forgotten how to _think_," Harry said, shuddering. "Like I was just a robot or something, existing only to do Voldemort's bidding. Bloody hell," he repeated, and I turned and absentmindedly performed a Calming Charm on him before continuing to follow him towards the Riddle House.

"Whoa—what the hell was that, mate?" asked Harry. I told him, and he resumed his walk with a somewhat impressed look on his face.

"Okay," began Harry when we arrived in the field behind the Riddle House. It was overgrown with weeds, and the house itself seemed to be giving off an evil energy that chilled me to the bone. "Everyone remember the plan?"

"Yeah," I said—I still remembered it from last time.

"Okay, then," said Harry. "Here she comes."

He pointed to a slithering noise coming from the brush ahead of us, and we all split in different directions, Harry taking on the snake, Hermione and I breaking off to sneak up on it from the sides. Suddenly Nagini emerged from the grass hissing with what I supposed was anger. Harry answered with what was probably a scathing remark—although they could have been exchanging invitations to tea for all I knew. Parseltongue is _creepy_ to see spoken in person.

Nagini reared up and lunged at Harry, but he dodged and retaliated with a Stunning Spell, which missed Nagini by inches and burned a seared patch in the undergrowth. Hermione nodded at me as we neared the snake, and I struggled to concentrate. What had happened last time?

There was another flash of light from where Harry tussled with Nagini, and a Killing Curse burned through another patch of grass.

"_Ron!_"

What was going on? Who was that—Hermione. And suddenly it came to me—I'd been so busy planning what I was going to do later that I had completely forgotten the plan—I had waited a second too long to act.

And a second was all that it took. Hermione's curse went flying towards Nagini alone, and, instead of Stunning the snake as we had planned, it only served to anger it further. Hissing furiously, Nagini abandoned trying to kill Harry and began to move toward Hermione, writhing in strange patterns on the ground.

And neither Harry nor I was going to get there in time.

- - - -

**Author's Note** – Review, dammit!


	4. Inside Out

**Everytime**

Chapter 4 – Inside Out

**A/N** – Whew. Just sat down and typed this whole thing up in about an hour, so forgive me if my author's notes are shorter than usual. Anyway, thanks to my reviewers—

**Babegurlly411** – The movie you're thinking of is probably Groundhog Day, which David Ken already did a great Ron/Hermione story on (check my favorites). Anyway, thanks a lot! Hope this update is fast enough, and...if the chapters are short, I'm not used to writing huge chapters; my first story had some 1,000-word ones that I thought were perfect, although I tried to make this story's chapters a little longer. But shorter chapters _does_ mean I can update more, so...

**Gylfie** – (3 times!) Thank you, thank you...lol. I'm flattered with your "This is…awesome" review; thanks a lot! Hope you continue to enjoy!

**EE's Skysong** – With me from the beginning, one of my greatest reviewers! Thanks a lot and hope the cliffhanger is resolved to your satisfaction... XD

**Harry Lvr** – Hopefully this is a quick enough update, though I'm afraid that I can't give you your wish of longer chapters...yet, anyway. The end of this chapter seemed like a good cutting-off point, and I wanted to get this out today, so that's why it's not longer, but hope you enjoy!

Anyway, one last thing...in case you guys hadn't noticed, each chapter's title is a song that I thought fit the mood. The first chapter is "The Future Freaks Me Out" by Motion City Soundtrack, the second chapter is "Second Heartbeat" by Avenged Sevenfold (just thought the title fit, don't particularly like the song), the third chapter is "Just a Simple Plan" by Piebald (again, title fit), and this one is "Inside Out" by Eve 6, an excellent song. Onwards...

- - - -

For a moment I was...floating. Well, I guess that's the only way to describe it. Reality seemed to sort of fade out into nothingness, eerily reminiscent of what had happened both times I had died so far—_I had died twice, bloody hell_—and then...nothing. Darkness.

_Whoosh._

Something was bursting outwards from within me. _Hermione_...I thought, and my concern for her was suddenly magnified a hundred times, a thousand times, until nothing else mattered other than the fact that _Hermione was about to die out there and it would probably be my fault_ _and I couldn't let her die _and suddenly there was an explosion, so huge that I was sure that we all, and maybe even Voldemort himself, were dead, but instead reality faded back into view and I could see Harry's face locked in an expression of horror and Hermione's shocked and fearful face as realization hit her that the snake was poisonous and she was at least going to be seriously injured...

A beam of light, in appearance exactly like an _Expelliarmus_ or _Avada Kedavra_ spell, flew outwards from somewhere within my chest and connected with Nagini's frozen form. Suddenly time seemed to speed back up again and the beam struck the snake, and there was a faint screaming noise before Nagini—Voldemort's final Horcrux, his familiar for decades, the snake that had bitten my father in the Department of Mysteries—dissolved into nothingness.

Then there was silence.

"Ron!" A piercing scream broke the nervous calm, and then suddenly there was bushy hair _everywhere_ and Hermione's slender form was pressing against my body, hugging me tightly and shaking, causing me to shake along with her...

"Holy Merlin! You killed it! It was about to hurt me or kill me and...you killed it! You killed Nagini! Y-You s-saved my life!" her cries became more and more muffled as she buried her face in the front of my robes, sniffling with fright and something else that I couldn't place.

"Hermione!"

Harry had arrived, and Hermione pulled away from me suddenly, struggling to regain her composure. She threw her arms around him as well, and I felt a sudden pang of jealousy that faded just as quickly and was replaced with thankfulness that Hermione was alive and awe at what I had done.

And then Harry turned to me and asked the question that the answer to had been eluding me in the mere moments since reality had faded away...

"Ron...what did you do, mate? What happened there? That looked like accidental magic...and really powerful too!"

_Accidental magic?_ Something clicked in my head, and suddenly it made complete sense. Accidental magic was performed whenever an extremely large burst of emotion was emitted from a witch or wizard...and I had been incredibly worried about Hermione, enough that for an instant she was the only thing on my mind...

_Oh no_, I thought. I really cared about her. Forget _cared_ about her, I was pretty close to _love_ if not there already! And she certainly didn't feel the same way about me, as she had made perfectly clear during our years at Hogwarts...

"_Next time, ask me to go to the ball yourself, and not as a last resort!"_

Her words from fourth year somehow found their way into my mind. And then I realized—

No. _No._ I had to do this. I had to carry out my plan for later, and if anything it was going to be doubly hard to pull off due to this latest realization. But pull it off I had to if any of us were going to live, not just myself—because if I had been the only one left without Harry and Hermione, I didn't think that I could have stood it. Not to mention the prophecy and the fact that if Harry fell to Voldemort it was uncertain if _any_ wizard in the world would be strong enough to defeat him...

"Harry—you know, I think you're right," I replied finally, struggling to get my thoughts in order, but they kept zooming off in other directions, usually toward the bushy-haired witch standing in front of me.

"But—but how did you kill Nagini? By yourself? She was a Horcrux...that's incredibly strong magic, mate. How on _Earth_ did you pull that off?"

"I—I don't know," I said, my thoughts racing. How _had_ I destroyed a Horcrux by myself utilizing accidental magic, when all Harry had been able to do with it in his years of life was blow up an aunt?

And then Hermione spoke up finally, her voice much less shaky. "W-well, I have to agree with Harry, that was definitely accidental magic. And Nagini is definitely gone, I have to admit that," she said, pointing as she spoke to a pile of ashes on the grassy field beneath us, shuddering slightly. "So I guess we should count our blessings and move onward."

"But—but how did Ron do that?" Harry asked. "That was some amazing accidental magic—what were you thinking, Ron?"

I shook my head at Harry—I couldn't admit the truth to him. Instead I said, "I don't know, mate. I wish I could tell you. But like Hermione said, I think it's best that we count our blessings and move on, back to Grimmauld Place. That was the last Horcrux, and now we can take on You-Know-Who—and destroy him."

That sufficiently distracted Harry, who nodded and got a very thoughtful look on his face that Hermione and I knew all too well—his "saving-people-thing" was kicking fully into gear.

"Alright," said Harry, his voice pointed and authoritative. "Let's go back, Ron, Hermione." He squinted his eyes in concentration for a moment and then disappeared with a 'pop!', Hermione following soon afterwards.

I stared at the spot where the snake had been standing for a long while. _I must really, really care about her for that strong of a reaction to occur_, I thought—no! I tore my gaze away from the ashes on the ground and instead pictured the kitchen of Number Four, Grimmauld Place in my head. Suddenly there was a compressing sensation traveling down the entirety of my body and I was being crushed down into a tiny speck, then hurtled through a darkness that seemed infinite and all around me. My face and torso bent under the force of Apparition, and I felt like I was being squished under some giant's rather large tennis shoes before I finally felt myself expand and with a forceful _pop!_ I arrived in Grimmauld Place.

Harry had already exited the kitchen and was probably making plans to attack Voldemort somewhere, but Hermione was sitting at the kitchen table, apparently waiting for me. My stomach did several flip-flops as she motioned for me to sit down next to her.

"Ron—" she began, her voice trembling slightly. I looked directly into her chocolate-brown eyes and saw my own face mirrored in them staring back at me.

"Ron—I just—I really want to thank you for what you did. I mean—more than thank you. You saved my life, Ron. I—I really want you to know that what you did means a whole lot to me. You—you really—that was some impressive accidental magic," she said and I stared back at her as if in a dream. I nodded my head slightly to let her know that I was listening.

"Ron—I just want you to know that I'd do the same for you," she said, and I stared her in the face. My heart swelled with something unrecognizable—_love­? No, stop! You care about her because she's your friend..._—and an amazing feeling flooded through my body from my head to my toes.

"Thanks—thanks so much, Hermione," I stammered, unsure completely of what to say. She simply looked at me for the longest time, and for as long as she stared at me I was unaware of time passing or Voldemort plotting our deaths or the fact that I had _died_ twice and was trying to prevent myself and my best friends from dying again. All that mattered was that _Hermione_, the girl that I had liked for years now, the girl I cared about enough to perform the most powerful accidental magic that I had ever even heard about, was sitting there staring back at me and smiling, her eyes sparkling...

I ripped my gaze away. I couldn't do this. I had to save our lives, and then there might be time for...whatever it was that I was feeling towards Hermione.

And then I concentrated as hard as I could to do the exact opposite of what I wanted to do—to annoy Hermione, accidentally insult her, do _something_ to anger her enough that she wouldn't want to save my life and then, if I could somehow prevent myself from dying, Harry wouldn't be distracted and then Voldemort wouldn't be able to kill him and then, just maybe, Harry would prevail and the war would be won. This was what I had been planning ever since my last death, and yet somehow at that very moment it was extremely hard to do it.

I opened my mouth and words sped out before I could do anything about them—

"Hermione, you look really—"

_No!_ I shouted in my head. _Really what? Pretty? You can't say that, then she might do it again, she might throw herself in front of you! You have to save her life and Harry's...and your own! Come on, Ron, you seem to be really good at doing this when you _don't_ want to..._

"Really what?" she asked, her gaze never leaving my eyes. I was feeling incredibly uncomfortable now, in the presence of the girl that I had a crush on, her eyes staring into mine, her face incredibly close, and then...

It hit me. I felt terrible, absolutely horrible, about what I was doing, but what could I do? I had no choice.

"Really...weird," I sputtered out, almost feeling like crying for a brief instant. "Like—like you got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning or something."

"Oh," said Hermione softly, looking away, the tension between us broken.

That wasn't enough. I had to say something more, something to anger her deeply, as much as I wanted not to. The words came to me from somewhere inside me but yet not inside me, somewhere that I wasn't even aware existed. "You know, Hermione, you could really do with some Sleakeazy's Hair Potion; you know, like Lavender used? She always looked really great with that on..." My heart pounded in my chest.

Hermione turned away, rising suddenly, her knee hitting the table with a _crack_. She gasped in pain, pushing her chair in violently, and, seeming to change her mind about something, turned to me, her eyes full with tears.

"That's all you care about, isn't it? Stupid _Lavender_! And you've broken up with her, but that's not enough, is it? You only go for looks, you know; you're such a _prat_! Who cares if a girl has lots of intelligence and a good personality; all you care about is if they use enough _hair potion_! You make me sick!" she shouted, and stomped off. I plastered the most confused look that I could muster on my face, at the same time realizing that this was how all of our fights started...

A door slammed suddenly, jolting me out of my reverie. Hermione had barricaded herself in her room, and would probably not come out until that night, when Harry had the vision of Voldemort and she would _have_ to emerge in order to go with us to Hogsmeade to await him. And she definitely wouldn't sacrifice herself for me this time; I had made sure of that.

My plan had worked perfectly, and yet somehow I felt terrible about it. My heart sank as I stared at the grim walls of the kitchen, alone with my thoughts.

- - - -

**A/N** – Please review!


	5. Waiting

**Second Heartbeat**

Chapter Five – Waiting

**Brief A/N** – There will be no more review responses, sorry. The site's policy has been for a while that they're not allowed, and from now on I'm not taking the chance of having my story taken down. Thankfully, the new review response system will let me respond to anyone that has a question. Anyway, thanks to all the reviewers of the last chapter:

**EE's Skysong, Kuko, Harry Lvr, Missie, laura truewood, vero11, Babegurlly411, **and **Gylfie**

Now, enjoy!

- - - -

Blackness. Everything was black. The darkness was so deep that it overcame me and pulsed within me and I became the blackness and the blackness became me and some immense feeling immersed my very soul...

"Ron."

A faint glimmer of light suddenly broke through the obscurity above. I latched on to it, grabbed it as hard as I could and prayed that someway, somehow it would take me out of this desolate place...

"Ron!"

Another ray of light shattered the darkness above. The clouds that surrounded me evanesced and broke off, dissipating into the light as I immersed myself in it, a deep ecstasy flowing through my every vein...

"RON!"

My eyes shot open, my breaths increasing in urgency, expecting something terrible. But all that my vision revealed was Harry, his hair disheveled and eyes wide. Immediately I knew there was trouble.

"Ron—you won't believe this. The bastard came to me in my dreams..."

Oh, right.

"Uh—the bastard you're referring to would be Voldemort, right?" I asked, hoping to clarify things in Harry's mind and allow him to slow down and think.

"Yeah," said Harry, waving his hand impatiently. "Anyway, he told me—" Harry stopped and shuddered, something that, even the second time I saw it, chilled me no less than it had initially. To see the Boy-Who-Lived, the bravest person that I had ever met, sitting there _shaking_ in front of you...well, it's not encouraging.

"You'll see," said Harry, closing his eyes and trying desperately to calm himself. I patted him on the back somewhat awkwardly, hoping that somehow it would ease his troubles. But how could I calm him if I felt terrible myself? This would be it; this would be my last chance. If I didn't save Harry and Hermione now, I was pretty sure there would be no more second chances. And I had to do it all while the girl that I secretly loved was probably thinking, for the third time in her life, of never talking to me again.

Wait...had I just thought that I _loved_—

"I'll put it in Dumbledore's Pensieve," said Harry hurriedly. "You and Hermione could see my dream. And—I don't know what we'll do next; we'll probably have to go back to Hogsmeade—"

"I'll be right back," said Harry, rushing out of the room, presumably to wake Hermione. I remembered something about a dream and darkness vaguely before reality shattered my subconscious thoughts and forced me to think in the moment.

It was several minutes spent alone with my thoughts before Harry returned, Hermione and Dumbledore's Pensieve in tow. "Okay," he said breathlessly before placing his wand to his head. A silvery-white strand of thoughts materialized and slowly gained form before Harry shook it into the basin of the Pensieve. The thought swirled at the surface, and there was a brief glimmer of red eyes before it sunk to the depths of the device.

"Ready?" asked Harry shakily, and Hermione and I looked at each other for a brief moment. But she then turned away and spoke as bravely as I'd ever heard her speak.

"Yeah. We're ready."

All three of us surrounded the Pensieve and hesitated only a moment before plunging our fingers into the basin. The world around me swirled away in a cyclone of noise and color before another world materialized in front of me.

At first I thought that Harry was showing us the wrong thought. The dream in front of us was probably the happiest thing that I'd ever seen. Harry was sitting at the Burrow, a bright blue sky above and a Quidditch game raging in the skies overhead. Harry, I noticed, was not participating, but rather sitting and leaning against a tree, Ginny by his side.

Hermione shielded her eyes, unsure of how much she was supposed to see, but I saw no need, as I _had_ seen it all already, and I _was_ her brother, and had to make sure that nothing out-of-hand was going on there.

"So the Prophecy was wrong?" asked Ginny, her chocolate-brown eyes glittering in the sunlight. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," said Harry. "Dumbledore called me to his office and told me so." I was unsure of just how Dumbledore managed to call Harry to his office when he was currently a member of the black abyss that I had now seen twice, but remembered the strangeness of some of my own dreams and refocused my thoughts.

"Good," said Ginny happily. "Now you don't have to worry about Voldemort, Harry. You can stay here with us and play Quidditch as much as you want."

I stifled a grin at the simplicity and immaturity of it all, but realized everything that Harry had been through and felt like hitting myself.

"Wait," said Harry, the real one standing next to me and looking pale white. "Just wait. This isn't the real dream—it'll come later—"

The dream-Harry stretched lazily and put an arm around Ginny, who snuggled into his chest. "We're so lucky that Dumbledore defeated Voldemort," she said. "Now we have such a great world that we can become adults together in—"

Ginny cut off abruptly, and the dream-world seemed to shimmer. I felt my heartbeats start to quicken as the deep blue sky suddenly darkened and the happy Burrow scene disappeared. Now Harry was standing alone in the graveyard behind the Riddle House in Little Hangleton, the place where the three of us had just left hours before. The world around us gave a final shudder before Lord Voldemort himself appeared in front of Harry, red eyes gleaming sadistically.

"Potter..." he hissed, his snakelike voice sending shivers down my spine.

"You..." stammered Harry, with a ferocity I had never seen in him before. "What the hell do you want?"

"Nothing," said Voldemort cockily, his face twisting into a crooked smile.

"I—I don't understand," replied Harry, an inexplicable courage replacing his nervousness. "Nothing? You've taken Dumbledore, Sirius, Remus, my parents, Cedric, Neville's parents, Mrs. Weasley, Bill, Charlie—and you want _nothing?_"

"Well, I suppose that's a little unfair," said Voldemort cockily, and for a moment I wanted to tear him limb from limb, tear out his pathetic heart, and stuff it down his throat. "You see, I simply wish to tell you something."

"And what is that?" spat Harry.

"If you have any plans to visit Hogsmeade Village, you may want to make them soon."

"What? What are you going to do to Hogsmeade?" shouted Harry furiously.

"You will see, Potter, in time. Now if you don't mind, I must be going; you will join those filthy parents of yours soon."

Harry kept his cool, taking deep breaths, although even in his dream his hand traveled to his pocket where his wand would be. "We'll see," said Harry finally. "And—why are you telling me this? What do you want from me?"

"Nothing," said Voldemort, the epitome of tranquility.

"What? You don't want anything—you just want to _tell_ me?" asked Harry, his fists clenching with rage.

"That's right," replied Voldemort. "Goodbye, Potter, and enjoy your last hours on this earth."

Harry, Hermione, and I watched in stunned silence as Voldemort's form disappeared and the Pensieve deposited us back into reality.

Deep within me a terrible feeling was arising. How did I stand any chance of winning, even if Hermione didn't sacrifice herself this time? How did _any_ of us have a chance of winning against such a powerful and ruthless opponent? And when I finally died for the last time, would Hermione ever know how I had felt about her?

She never would. The war was hopeless anyway.

"We—we have to get to Hogsmeade right away," said Hermione suddenly, her voice breaking through my reverie. I nodded silently, an enormous sadness building up deep within me.

"But first we have to get to the Ministry," said Harry suddenly, his power of rational thought seeming to return. "We have to warn Scrimgeour, get him to evacuate the residents of Hogsmeade. If he can send enough Aurors—and the Order will be there—we could win, Hermione!"

Hermione nodded, although I could tell that she wasn't daring to hope. Someone like this...someone who could destroy entire villages without second thoughts, without remorse...

What chance did we have against such an enemy?

"Ron, are you okay?" came Harry's sudden voice. Hermione just glared at me.

"Y-Yeah, fine," I stammered, embarrassed. "Let's go."

And with a pop we all Apparated away.

- - - -

"No, that's impossible! Absolutely impossible!"

I sighed. We were confronting Scrimgeour, who was enraged at being woken at three o'clock in the morning and was not being particularly cooperative.

"For the last time, Minister Scrimgeour," said Harry with an unearthly calm that neither Hermione nor I possessed, "I am completely certain that Lord Voldemort was behind the vision that I received earlier today. Ron and Hermione saw the vision, and I can bring you the Pensieve myself, although that would cut significantly into our preparation time."

I marveled for the second time at Harry's ability to maintain his composure in situations in which all the rest of us would have panicked. He stared down a newly resurrected Voldemort when he was only fourteen years old and managed to outwit him in a duel. In fifth year he led a group of teenagers against several Death Eaters and still managed to emerge with the knowledge of the prophecy a secret. _He_ had led us down the trapdoor to fight the Stone; _he_ had gone alone into the Chamber of Secrets to rescue Ginny; _he_ had cast a Patronus and single-handedly driven off a throng of dementors. Harry was certainly a formidable opponent for Voldemort. The question was, would he be enough?

"Very well," said Scrimgeour somewhat hesitantly. "But how do you know that Voldemort is not leading you into a trap, as, I have it on good authority, he did in your fifth year?"

"We don't know," said Harry shortly. "But we can't afford to take the risk. Voldemort hasn't sent me a vision in over a year—"

"Have you any proof that he has not simply been waiting in order to fool you? I repeat, Mr. Potter, he has fooled you once before!"

Harry sighed, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. "That could be true, Minister," he said finally. "But it also could be wrong. And do you really have the ability to take the risk that what you're saying is false?"

"If you do this, Minister," said Hermione suddenly, "then you will be known for heeding that warning that saved hundreds of lives. But if you ignore this warning, our one and only warning, then you will be forever shamed as the Minister who ignored the Chosen One as he attempted to protect the only all-Wizarding village in the world."

This time it was Scrimgeour who took a deep breath. "Very well," he said finally, albeit very reluctantly. "But I will only issue a voluntary evacuation notice. Those who wish to remain and avoid all this—foolishness—shall be free to do so."

"No!" shouted Harry upon hearing this. "You have to evacuate _everyone_, Minister! We can't guarantee that no one will get hurt if you let people stay!"

"Listen to me, Potter," said Scrimgeour in a hostile tone. "This is your one and only chance to get the evacuation notice. I am being _extremely_ kind in listening to you at all. Now kindly remove yourselves from my office."

Harry and Hermione sighed, and I followed them out into the Ministry building, barely catching Scrimgeour's angry mumblings of "Dumbledore's man indeed" as we rounded a corner.

"Well," said Harry, "this is it."

I nodded.

This was it.


	6. Thoughts before Me

**Second Heartbeat**

Chapter 6 – Thoughts before Me

I awoke the next morning to a brilliant ray of sunshine cutting through my window and somehow landing directly on my eyes. For a moment I expected Harry to be shaking me awake to attend breakfast in the Great Hall, but then my wits returned and I realized where I was.

And what I had done.

Hermione still wasn't talking to me. She had been avoiding me ever since my Lavender comment the day before, and, although I couldn't help but feel a small longing for her—okay, maybe a little bigger than a small longing—I couldn't help but be grateful that, to some extent, my plan had actually worked. With the amount of fury she was feeling for me, she certainly wouldn't throw herself in front of the Killing Curse this time.

_Or would she? I would do the same for her no matter how angry I was at her._

_Shut up!_ I thought to my inner self, fuming at the unintended realization. There was no way that she felt the same way about me as I did about her, anyway; I had liked her since second year, for Merlin's sake! There was absolutely no evidence that she felt the same way; she had dated bloody _Krum_ for almost all of fourth year! No, my plan was flawless.

So why did it feel so wrong?

I sighed and climbed out of my bed in the Three Broomsticks. Madam Rosmerta had been kind enough to take us in for the night when we explained what was going to happen the next day. I wondered what had become of the kindly bartender the first time—I remembered her somber vow not to evacuate, but after Harry, Hermione, and I had left the Three Broomsticks we had seen neither hide nor hair of her.

"Hey, Ron," said Harry, poking his head into my room and seeing that I was awake. "I was about to come wake you up."

"What time is it, mate?" I asked, stifling an enormous yawn.

"About nine in the morning," said Harry. "I've been up since five anyway—couldn't sleep."

For a moment I felt a little guilty that I had been sleeping soundly while Harry had had the entire wizarding world on his shoulders, but I reminded myself that Harry wouldn't have to worry about it anymore once we defeated Voldemort. And no matter what, we were going to defeat Voldemort.

Even if I had to die again.

"Well, c'mon, mate," said Harry. "Rosmerta's prepared us some breakfast. And we'll probably be needed to help evacuate in case anyone hasn't done it yet."

"Right there, Harry," I said, stretching. Damn, I had hardly slept at all the night before! I didn't remember climbing into bed until around four, so that left a pitiful five hours of sleep for me to prepare for the biggest battle in my lifetime. After I had sufficiently awoken myself and pulled some robes on, I went down to the bar, where Harry, Hermione, an enormous plate of pancakes, and a big jug of orange juice were awaiting me. My stomach let out a cacophonous growl, and I smiled sheepishly at Hermione's stare before remembering to look angry.

I scarfed down my pancakes and juice, and when my appetite was finally sated I turned to Harry.

"So what now?" I said, remembering that it would probably be helpful to play my role so I didn't give Harry or Hermione any idea of what I had been through. There was no way that I could tell them; they wouldn't understand.

"Now we wait," said Harry. "And pray that we're not too late."

- - - -

The sky above Hogsmeade village was a brilliant blue that afternoon, as if it had no idea what was coming. Birds sang in the trees that lined the streets, and the sun shone cheerfully in the heavens. The citizens of Hogsmeade went happily about their business, ready to come home to their families after their long days of work. In other words, there was no sign that anything was out of place, that anything about that particular day was different from any other day.

But there was something different. Something huge.

That evening, the Second War against Voldemort was going to end, one way or another.

Harry, Hermione, and I had spent the day trying desperately to evacuate the citizens of Hogsmeade from their homes. The voluntary evacuation that Minister Scrimgeour had issued was very ineffective; most of the citizens of the village simply refused to believe that Voldemort was coming to Hogsmeade. It didn't help that the Minister had mentioned in a speech broadcast on the Wizarding Wireless that Harry Potter had received a warning in his dreams from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named telling of the attack. If they were truly in danger, they reasoned, why would Voldemort have warned Harry of the attack beforehand? And so the residents of Hogsmeade believed that the warning was a ruse, that there would be no attack, and that they would all go to sleep that night safe and with their families.

Only I knew for sure that this would not be true.

After our pitiful attempt that only actually ended up evacuating a family of five who had converted to our beliefs after seeing Harry's scar, the three of us had decided to have one last day out in the village. Harry's watch said that the time was four o'clock, which left roughly two hours before the attack occurred. Hermione still had avoided talking to me as often as she could, and Harry was still brooding, walking along in silence and often staring off into space, deep in thought, perhaps at the injustice of being the Boy-Who-Lived or the unfairness of a prophecy that would either make him a murderer or murdered. After too long spent trying to snap him out of it, I gave up; I couldn't blame him for being angry and confused. We had already visited Zonko's and Honeydukes, but they had done nothing to improve his mood, and so we now just walked the streets of Hogsmeade, enjoying one last day of relaxation before the biggest battle of our lives.

I had never known time to drag on so slowly. It seemed that the closer it came to six o'clock, the slower the clock moved, so that by four-thirty it seemed that time literally stopped every few seconds before moving on as normal again.

It was then, for the first time in this whole mess of an adventure, that what I was doing actually seemed to sink in. I was literally coming back from the dead—and not just once, twice! I had a chance to change the future, a chance that the rare wizard indeed would ever experience in his lifetime. Time-Turners were extremely strictly regulated by the Ministry, and Harry and Hermione's experience in third year had been in incredibly isolated incident.

Which brought me to a question that, strangely, hadn't even occurred to me up until that point—how was it that I had received a second chance? Did everyone get a chance to change the events leading up to his or her death? If so, why did so many still die? Couldn't someone who died in a battle just decide not to be in a spot to be hit by the spell that killed them? Couldn't a heart attack victim check himself or herself into the hospital before the heart attack occurred? There had to be more to it than that, and yet nothing I could think of explained why I, of all people, had been chosen to live the events leading up to my death again. Had I done something special? There was no way to bring someone, wizard or not, back from the dead; everyone knew that. And yet, here I stood, my very existence defying that fact. Because I had died, there was no doubt about it, there was no mistaking that terrible emptiness that had engulfed me as I sat and watched my own funeral. There was no mistaking the feelings of loss and horror as I realized that every member of the Golden Trio was dead and that Voldemort had fulfilled the prophecy by defeating Harry.

The sun was dipping below the horizon now, so Harry, Hermione, and I turned and headed back towards the Three Broomsticks. Another glance at Harry's watch revealed that the time was about five o'clock—only an hour left.

My thoughts returned to my unique situation as the regular rhythm of my feet beneath me and the complete silence lulled me into a sort of stupor. Why _had _I been chosen to return, if not every wizard received this chance? Was it because I was the best friend of the Boy-Who-Lived? After all, Harry had lived through the Killing Curse. Why couldn't I?

"Ron!" shouted a voice from next to me. I turned and faced Harry's exasperated face—I was about to walk straight past the Three Broomsticks.

"Sorry," I said sheepishly, following Harry and Hermione into the pub. We made our way to our seats at the bar, Harry now over his brooding stage and alertly scanning the streets outside for any sign of Death Eater activity. I was the only one who knew that he wouldn't find it.

"I'll be right back," came Harry's sudden voice after I had been sitting down about half an hour. He left and headed towards the restrooms, leaving Hermione and I to sit together in an awkward silence.

And then the very last thing that I expected happened. Hermione moved over one seat and sat down next to me.

"You haven't been yourself, Ron. At all. You're hardly saying anything, you're acting one way one second then doing the exact opposite...what you did yesterday, Ron. You've never done anything like that before in your life. And then after you rescued me...you weren't acting normally. When you talked about Lavender. It—I dunno, exactly. It just wasn't right."

I stared at her, her chocolate-brown eyes boring into my own blue ones.

"What's wrong, Ron?" she finally finished with a kind of huff. I glanced desperately towards the bathroom door for any sign of a rescue from Harry, but to no avail.

"Nothing," I said miserably. "At least nothing besides the fact that we're about to go into battle against the most feared Dark Lord in centuries."

"But I _know_ you, Ron," she said, and, corny as it sounds, something resembling an electric shock ran through me at those words. "And this isn't how you normally act before a battle. Cracking jokes, yes. Nervousness, yes. But confusion? Thoughtfulness? Something else is happening, Ron, I'm sure of it. And if you don't want to tell me..."

"It's not that," I said, scrambling for something, _anything_ to tell her other than the truth. "It's—Hermione, I—" Damn it, why couldn't I think of anything?

"What is it, Ron? You can tell me," she said. My heart was palpitating frantically, my mind nothing but mush. I hadn't figured _this_ into my plan, that was for sure.

"I can't tell you," I finally answered, deciding that honesty was, in this case, the best policy. "It's—"

"Well, fine," she said, her anger seeming to increase twofold. "Then I guess you really _are_ that much of an insensitive prat." And she moved back onto her original stool before I could so much as process what she had just said.

What the hell?

Harry chose that time to return. He opened his mouth as if to question me on what was wrong, but upon seeing the look on Hermione's face he thought better of it. Not that I blamed him.

The situation quickly deteriorated into the depressing silence of before. Time passed so slowly that I could've sworn someone had spelled the clock to run half as fast. Finally Harry let out a deep sigh and spoke.

"This is stupid," he said, and I felt a jolt run through my body as I glanced surreptitiously at the clock. Six on the dot. "We shouldn't just be _waiting_ for him like this. We should be—"

I jumped up from my seat a moment before the pub began to shake with the force of the spells being cast outside. Harry followed moments later after helping a fallen Hermione up off of the floor. Rosmerta dove behind the counter, looking around frantically for the attackers.

"Ready?" asked Harry, and both Hermione and I nodded.

"Then—let's go," he said, and for the third time I drew my wand and ran out the door to the Three Broomsticks, praying that I would be able to find a way to live before I ran out of chances.

- - - -

**A/N** – It's done! For a day I was thinking seriously about abandoning this story, but then I decided that I _had_ to finish it, it being one of the only stories whose ends I actually have in mind. There aren't too many chapters left (we're at least halfway done), so I need that much more feedback so I can correct errors before the story ends! Please review and tell me what was good and bad about this chapter. Until next time...


	7. Everytime

**Second Heartbeat**

Chapter 7 – Everytime

The village of Hogsmeade had been instantly transformed from the peaceful hamlet that I had been walking through only hours before to a battle scene. Curses flew overhead indiscriminately, taking down innocent and Death Eater alike. It was completely dark outside, but the lights of curses were more than enough to guide Harry, Hermione, and myself through the village.

There was a sudden scream. An immense crash sounded, and I ripped my head around to look despite myself as a giant tore the roof off of a building only two or three streets over, causing its inhabitants to run for shelter. I looked away quickly before I could see what caused the scream that followed.

"Come on!" shouted Harry, and Hermione and I, running next to each other, gave each other questioning glances before hurtling forward after him. Dodging occasional jets of light, we shot through the village, doing our best to avoid the giants and honing in on the location of Lord Voldemort.

I don't know how long I ran, but I vowed never to allow myself to die again so I wouldn't have to go through that sprint. Eventually the pattering of my feet beneath me and the occasional screams faded away, and I was the only inhabitant of the world at that moment. It was an incredibly strange feeling, and I found myself occasionally looking towards Hermione as I did so, noting little things about her like her kind eyes or the way her eyes scrunched up when she was concentrating. This was going to be it; I couldn't allow thoughts of her to distract me, and yet somehow she always managed to creep into my mind.

"This way!" shouted Harry from somewhere ahead, and the jets of light became brighter and more frequent as we approached the open field that I knew would either mark our last stand or our greatest victory. And it all rested on me. If Hermione threw herself in front of me, Harry would be distracted and Voldemort would win. But if my plan worked and Hermione was sufficiently mad at me so as not to save my life, maybe Harry would keep his concentration and kill Voldemort before he realized that I was dead. Because no matter what, Hermione wasn't going to die this time.

Harry's steps slowed, and Hermione and I, too, slowed to a halt. The scarce buildings that remained around me now gave way to open fields and farmland, and the shouts of combatants could already be heard from the field ahead. Harry took a deep breath, and I placed my hands on my knees, breathing heavily.

"Ready?" asked a winded Harry, and, upon receiving nods from both Hermione and me, we all charged forward.

"Oi!" shouted Draco Malfoy from where he stood next to his father. "Potter and his pathetic friends have arrived!" Three curses shot at Harry and one at Hermione, but Harry's hurried _Protego_ caused them to reflect harmlessly off the shield. The battle had begun.

And yet somehow it didn't feel right. Something was inexplicably _off_ about the battle this time, and instead of the flood of adrenaline and the heavy breathing that usually occurred during battles, I felt almost nothing, as if I was an actor playing my role in a play.

_I flew forward, throwing Stunners wherever I saw white masks, which was almost everywhere—we were surrounded by them. Lucius Malfoy stepped forward, and we began to duel._

"_Well, well," he said, thinking that I didn't know who he was. "What do we have here? A Weasley...pity that my diary didn't kill your little sister, isn't it? Although I suppose that she's gotten quite pretty now..."_

_I didn't even let him finish. I brought my wand forward in a flash and wandlessly cast a Sectumsempra hex. Malfoy Sr. simply wandlessly conjured a shield and the hex bounced off, causing me to have to jump to the side to avoid it._

"_Temper, temper, Weasley!" he shouted, and I growled and shot another Sectumsempra at him, which he dodged easily, turning around this time and firing an Avada Kedavra at me. I quickly dodged, feeling the curse whoosh past my left ear, before casting another Sectumsempra. "Got anything else up your sleeve, Weasley? Pathetic!" Malfoy shouted as he dodged the hex._

_I brought my wand to my side and let it hang loosely in my hand, preparing to cast a shield or jump to the side whenever it was needed. Malfoy stared me down, not casting any curses. We began to circle each other, wands drawn, each of us attempting to force as much hatred as we could into our gazes. I let my eyes wander slightly—Hermione was succeeding in taking down her Death Eater, and now, having placed him in a full body bind, was dueling another. Harry was too far away for me to see him, but I knew from the last time I had done this that he was okay. So far._

_Finally Malfoy snapped and shot a Cruciatus Curse at me. I dodged to the right, but somehow another Cruciatus found me there, and I fell to the ground. Agony beyond agony was now coursing through my veins, overcoming every inch of my body._

And yet it was as if I didn't care. I stood up, throwing off the curse suddenly, the noises of the battle seeming to magnify in my ears. Malfoy growled and shot a Disarming Curse at me, which I deflected with a Shield Charm.

And then, off to the side somewhere, shouts began to sound—the Aurors had arrived. Malfoy turned to look, and I almost did before realizing what had happened last time and instead shot a wandless Expelliarmus at him. His face contorted into a look of shock and fury as his wand flew out of his grasp and into my waiting hand.

"Petrificus totalus!" I shouted, and Malfoy, Disarmed and taken by surpise, fell to the floor, his legs snapping together instantly. Harry came into view, dueling two Death Eaters at once but smiling at me and shouted words of encouragement as I stepped over Malfoy's useless body and took on one of Harry's Death Eaters.

I immediately shot an Expelliarmus at Harry's Death Eater, and it caught him or her in the mask, ripping it and the upper part of their robes open. I watched in silent anger as none other than Bellatrix Lestrange emerged from the darkness—and suddenly I was on the floor in agonizing pain yet again.

But it was as if I wasn't even feeling anything—my body cried out in anguish, but my mind wouldn't allow me to show any weakness. It didn't matter. This was it; nothing else mattered. I got up, and a shocked look crossed Lestrange's face.

"So this is how it's going to be, Weasley?" she asked, a smile crossing her pitiful face. "Well then—it's going to be fun breaking you, my dear."

I felt the anger surge through me, but this time I let it subside. I felt nothing, _was_ nothing. I can honestly say that this was by far the strangest sensation that I had ever experienced. Without feeling, without thinking, I raised my wand, saying nothing. Lestrange stared at me, the shadow of a smile on her foul lips, before falling to the ground unconscious.

An amazing feeling was now coursing through every vein in my body, something so huge that I couldn't even begin to comprehend the complexities of it. Off to the side, I noticed somehow that Lord Voldemort had arrived, but he seemed to be a faint memory in my mind.

A curse flew directly at me from behind, but I dodged and spun to the side, shooting off an _Expelliarmus_ as I did so. My entire body felt like it was lectericitially charged; my mind seemed to go entirely blank. Something was overcoming me, some part of myself that I had never realized before coming into its own. The Death Eater shot a green curse at me, but I simply rolled to the side and downed him or her with a _Stupefy_ immediately upon completing the roll. Another Death Eater ran to engage me, dodging my initial Disarming Charm easily and shooting off an _Expelliarmus_ of his or her own. My wand shot out of my hands, causing the Death Eater to shout in glee, but his or her smile quickly turned to fear as my wand flew back towards my outstretched hands. I caught it in my right hand, and then cast a Cutting Hex that caught the Death Eater off guard, slashing an opening in the right arm of his or her robe. The Death Eater—I think it was Avery—ripped off his mask and charged towards me, but I simply jumped backwards and Stunned him. His unconscious form hit the ground with a thud.

That was about when I let go, allowing my powers to rise to the surface. I saw as if watching through a Pensieve myself Stun three more Death Eaters in succession, including Goyle Sr., and spin around, ready to face more.

I never saw the jet of green light coming. It was thrown by none other than Peter Pettigrew, and I saw the grin on his rat-like features from within the Death Eater ranks before whooshing death shot towards me much faster than I could react.

And, just for an instant, time seemed to slow down. I stared directly into the curse, its rushing motion becoming closer to swimming as it made its way towards my immobile form. The sounds of the battle around me completely shut off, as if I had entered a vacuum and the world around me had simply ceased to exist. The feeling that I felt next was indescribable, but it was as if some sort of wall within my brain had broken down and revealed a huge amount of secrets that I wasn't even aware were there. Flashes of my life fell before my eyes, as if I truly _had_ entered a Pensieve and was reliving everything again.

_Hermione was standing in the Gryffindor common room, looking at Ron as though he was some sort of particularly nasty insect. Her hair was falling out of the elegant bun that she had used during the Yule Ball, and her face was screwed up in anger._

"_Well, if you don't like it, you know what the solution is, don't you?" yelled Hermione._

"_Oh yeah? What's that?"_

"_Next time there's a ball, ask me before someone else does, and not as a last resort!"_

- - - -

My thoughts were suddenly shattered by the appearance of a figure in my peripheral vision. Time sped up again; the shouts returned. And Hermione's face, screwed up into the same concentrated expression that I had come to know so well, relaxed, her mouth opening slightly in shock as the Killing Curse meant for me struck her for the third time.

- - - -

**A/N**- Thanks to all my reviewers for the last chapter, and please review this chapter! Until next time!


	8. Epiphany

**Everytime**

Chapter 8 - Epiphany

I felt as if something in my heart had been cut off, some crucial portion of my very soul severed. Hermione was dead. I had failed. Everything was lost. There was no way on earth that I would ever get another chance, and with Harry dead—

Wait. Harry.

I turned in horror only to see Voldemort's Cutting Hex send him to the ground. And for an instant, I was aware of nothing save the last hope of the wizarding world, who was about to die at the hands of the worst Dark Lord in centuries.

I hurled myself as fast as I could toward the site where Harry was battling Voldemort, dodging hexes from Death Eaters and Aurors alike as I zoomed toward my best friend. I was going to have one chance, only one chance, but if I played my cards right maybe he alone out of the Golden Trio could survive this battle.

I was barely aware of a shout from behind me and a whooshing noise before green light covered my vision and the world disappeared.

- - - -

_Your sixteen hour and thirty minute waiting period begins now_, came the sudden voice. I opened my eyes—and then realized that I didn't have any eyes. Or any body—I had lost all corporeality. I was literally nothing but the very soul, the very essence that made up who I was. Once again I was faced with that strange unreal reality...there was nothing around me but pure white. In other words, I was back. Again.

_You mean I have even **more** chances?_ I asked the voice curiously. _How many do I have? Can I just keep trying forever or—_

_No. You have one chance remaining. I suggest you make the best use of your time. You have sixteen hours, twenty-nine minutes, and sixteen seconds remaining,_ the voice reminded me as if in an afterthought before leaving me alone once more. Alone with my thoughts, which at the time were so chaotic that I felt it would take at least a week to sort out what I needed to do next.

What had I done wrong? My plan had been flawless. Hermione had been so incredibly incensed that I felt for sure she never would have done anything to save my life. Sure, she was my friend, but that was it. There had never been any signs that she saw me the way I saw her—as something more. As the person that you find yourself staring at when you think nobody's watching and you're deep in thought. The person who, after you've had the worst possible day and you feel like nobody can say anything to make you feel better, somehow manages to put a smile on your face.

Merlin, I'm turning into a bloody witch.

So why _would_ she rescue me, if she was so mad at me that she had most likely vowed never to speak to me again? She _gave her life _for me. That's not something to be taken lightly—and with the amount of fights we have, I seriously doubt that she's in love with me in any way, even as a friend.

But then why would she do it? Was it possible that there was something more happening there, something that I didn't see? After all, I _was_ Mr. Unobservant; that fact had been established many times. I didn't see Hermione and Krum coming out of anywhere. I didn't see Harry and Cho having any kind of relationship until Harry told me and Hermione that he had kissed her in fifth year, and he's my bloody best mate. So it would come as no surprise if there was something huge happening behind the scenes that I didn't see. Was Hermione realizing that Harry could be distracted if I died and somehow thinking that her death would distract him less? No, she was too smart for that; she knew that, at the very least, her death would affect Harry just as much as mine would, if not more. Did she think that—

Wait a minute. I had it! I had the reason that she had thrown herself in front of me, and with it the reason that I was getting these chances in the first place. There wasn't anything special about me at all to make the strange deity give me a second chance at life. The answer had been right in front of me all my life—literally. Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived. Everyone knew the story—Harry's mother's love for him caused her to sacrifice herself in order to save his life, thus bestowing some kind of blood magic protection upon him that wouldn't allow Voldemort to touch him. The _Avada Kedavra_ curse was unblockable, and yet Harry managed to stop it—and he did so because his mother's love manifested itself in her sacrifice.

And that was exactly what had happened to me. Hermione had given her life for me, knowing full well that I would be able to survive the _Avada Kedavra_ curse with her protection. This would have provided a big enough distraction to win the battle. That was the only possible explanation, although why she didn't just throw herself in front of Harry remained a mystery.

But then there was something else, something that I _knew_ inexplicably was there but that I couldn't seem to grasp. And suddenly something within my mind snapped back together and I was back into my past, reliving my memories as if there was some message in them that I was supposed to see—

_I walked through the Great Hall, dreading the prospect of the Quidditch game ahead of me. Harry and Hermione were already there, Harry prepared to go out into the pitch and capture the Snitch—always the hero. My stomach felt terrible, and I was feeling incredibly queasy. When Hermione saw how horrible I was, there would be nothing I could say to get her to ever feel the way about me that I did about her._

_I walked up to her, and she seemed to kind of look at me for a moment, her chocolate-brown eyes holding a strange glint that I had never seen before. And suddenly—_

"_Good luck, Ron," she said, kissing me on the cheek. I stood there stupidly, not moving, not thinking, just feeling that single kiss seem to flow into my bloodstream and travel throughout my body, leaving a strange tingling sensation behind..._

- - - -

"_Slug Club," I said furiously, trying to look as disdainful as possible. "It's pathetic. Well, I hope you enjoy your party. Why don't you try hooking up with McClaggen, then Slughorn can make you King and Queen Slug—"_

"_We're allowed to bring guests," said Hermione, turning scarlet for some inexplicable reason, "and I was going to ask you to come, but if you think it's stupid then I won't bother!"_

_A shock ran through my body, this being the absolute last thing that I ever thought she would say. "You were going to ask me?" I said somewhat hesitantly._

"_We're allowed to bring guests," said Hermione, her face flaring, "and I was _going _to ask you to come, but if you think it's that stupid then I won't bother!"_

_My heart skipped a beat. I must have misheard her. Surely she hadn't just said—_

"_You were going to ask me?" I asked, completely taken off-guard, my voice not even registering in my ears._

"_Yes," said Hermione, the venom evident in her words and her deep brown eyes sparking. "But obviously if you'd rather I _hooked up with McLaggen_..."_

"_No, I wouldn't," I said, something completely different than the anger I was feeling before flooding through my body. The look on Hermione's face was different than I had ever seen it as well, and the very air between us seemed to acquire a different quality than the rest of the room._

_Crash! The noise of Harry's shattering bowl echoed throughout the classroom, and I took the chance to look away hurriedly before I did anything else to ruin the moment._

- - - -

"_Hermione," I croaked, staring up at her slim figure from my bed in the Hospital Wing. "Wha—"_

"_Shh..." she said. "Don't talk. It's okay. I just came to see how you were doing."_

"_But—aren't you mad at me?" I asked, at a total loss._

"_I—I was," she admitted with a sort of sigh that made my blood tingle. "But—I was just worried about you, Ron."_

_A silence filled the room afterwards, and the only sound was Hermione's soft footsteps as she made her way towards my bed. It was the middle of the night, and I struggled to regain my bearings. "Shouldn't you not be allowed in here?" I asked, and she looked fiercely at me for a second before answering._

"_Yeah. I...I'm sorry. I'll go if—"_

"_No. You don't need to go," I said quickly, wondering what she was doing breaking the rules like that. I'd never seen her sneak in to anywhere unless she was directly saving lives as a result._

_She came to me and kneeled by my bed. "Ron—I'm so glad you're alright," she said, and I was shocked to see tears beginning to form in her eyes._

"_What's wrong?" I asked her desperately._

"_It's—it's nothing," she said. "Just—I was _so_ mad at you, Ron. I was convinced that you were using Lavender because—well, because Ginny said that you hadn't had any experience snogging," she continued, and I felt a sudden anger towards Harry for telling her._

"_I—I know it was stupid," she said. "But I couldn't stop thinking about—about how you and her—oh, bugger! I don't know why I'm doing this. This is probably a dream anyway. I woke up a few minutes ago and just—I knew that I _had _to come see you."_

_I simply sat there, stunned._

"_Ron—I was so mad, at first. But now I realize that—with what happened earlier today—I couldn't have stood it if you had died and I had been mad at you for something so stupid, Ron. I'm—I'm so worried about you. I couldn't bear it if you died. Just—please be careful," she blurted, and I simply stared at her, mouth agape, not making a sound._

"_Bloody—what am I doing?" she said suddenly, taking off just as quickly as she had come, her face lighting up like a Muggle traffic light. I simply sat there for what could have been two minutes or could have been two hours—I honestly didn't care._

_It had been the best birthday ever._

- - - -

Shocked, I jolted myself out of my thoughts. All this time, I had been reading things wrong! She—there was no way. But there the evidence was, plain as day—I _had_ been missing something huge, but not even close to what I had originally thought it was. Indeed, Hermione had been saving my life, and I was coming back because her sacrifice remained in me, but there was only one way that the sacrifice would work—if the person who gave their life loved the person whom they saved. And, impossible as it was, I was staring the inevitable conclusion right in the face.

Hermione loved me back.

- - - -

**A/N**- And there you have it, chapter 8. It's all downhill from here, folks, although the conclusion of the battle with Voldemort is still to be written and posted. Once again, thanks a lot for reading! Also, this is a long shot, but if anyone happened to have saved a copy of my old story Obliviate, I accidentally deleted it a long time ago when I felt like I sucked at writing and didn't think to save it, and would love to be able to at least read it again. Please send me a message or e-mail me (the address is in my profile) if you have it.

Don't forget to review, and thanks in advance if you happen to have saved or printed Obliviate. Also, one last thing—I have started a new C2 community under a different name and made myself staff, so you can access it through my profile. It's called Harry Potter Goes to the Movies, and it contains the best Harry Potter fics that have plots based on movies, are inspired by movies, or are movie crossovers. If you would like to staff the C2, just send a message or e-mail me—anyone is welcome right now, as long as you don't just add your own stuff—you CAN add your own stuff if it fits, just don't let it be all you add. Anyway, thanks for reading. Until next time!


	9. The Everglow

**Everytime**

Chapter 9 – The Everglow

I had been waiting and hoping for this moment all of my life, and yet now that it had finally come something seemed a bit off.

I had heard, from Ginny's occasional comments regarding Harry or Dean Thomas, that love felt like something was wiggling around in your chest every time you saw the other person. Love felt like you were in heaven, unreachable by everyone except your significant other and not caring about daily activities. I had always figured that girls had wanted me to stare them in the eyes and say romantically, "I love you," while giving them a rose, or something to that effect. Around Lavender I had always tried to be as "romantic" as possible, and, although it succeeded, something about it never felt right for me.

Didn't feel right now.

I had just figured out that my lifelong crush-and-maybe-something-more on Hermione was being reciprocated. I had figured out that Hermione had been constantly sacrificing herself for me because _she loved me enough to save my life_, not because of some attempt to save Harry. I should have been off in la-la land somewhere, I supposed, enjoying the bliss of love, like something out of one of Ginny's romance novels.

And yet I wasn't.

Instead, my brain, usually regulated to only being used for chess and occasional bursts of genius while fighting Voldemort, kicked into high gear. Hermione being in love with me, although strangely exciting beyond anything I'd ever felt, was not euphoric. It wasn't shocking; it didn't make my heart beat faster or my stomach feel like an entire circus was going on inside. More than anything, it just felt _right_, like something I had known all my life, like the fact that my middle name was Bilius or that you should never get kicked in the balls or that spiders were bad.

And so I thought. Inside my head I formulated one last plan for one last try at my one last chance to save my own life, and, consequently, the wizarding world. This time everything seemed different, clearer. There was some kind of _quality_ this time, something unexplainable, so you'll just have to trust me; it was there.

And so I thought some more. As I thought time seemed to stop and wait for me, and my head never stopped being just as clear as it had been at the beginning of this process. Bit by bit, a plan formed in my head, and when it stopped coming, I just waited for myself to catch up with my thoughts, and then I let the plan form some more. In the end, I was left with the most obvious thing possible, and the thing that I wanted to do more than anything. It was time; now I only had to have the courage.

_Are you there?_ I shouted out into the darkness with my mind. When no answer came, I concentrated and tried again. _Are you there? I'm ready!_

_Very well, Ronald,_ came the voice suddenly, so suddenly that at first it shocked me out of my wits. _To what time would you like to be returned?_

_Erm—two o'clock on the afternoon of the day I died,_ I thought brokenly at it.

_Are you certain? Your chosen return point does not leave you much leeway should your attempt fail._

_It won't fail_, I responded with a certainly that shocked even myself. _It won't fail_.

_Very well,_ the voice echoed throughout my head. _Two o'clock on the day that you were killed_.

As I prepared myself for the telltale swirling of colors that designated the beginning of one of my "second chances", I heard one last thought echo through my head.

_Good luck, Ronald Billius Weasley, great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great grandson of Godric Gryffindor_, came the voice before the place we were in dissolved into nothingness and sped me away.

- - - -

_Great-great-whatever-the-hell-it-was grandson of WHO?_ I thought desperately, but there was no response save the sudden pop as I appeared back in my own body and I began to hear the bustle of Hogsmeade village around me. I opened my eyes to find myself staring directly into the eyes of Harry Potter.

"You okay, mate?" he asked. "Seemed like you kind of blanked out there."

I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could I began to notice hundreds of tiny things about Harry's condition. There were bags under his eyes, and I could tell that he hadn't slept at all the previous night. His eyes were slightly more red than usual, as if he had been crying in a bathroom or somewhere when we hadn't noticed. He wore a smile outside his body, but inside there was turmoil beyond anything that I had ever experienced.

"Yeah," I replied finally, looking at my best mate sympathetically. He had been through so much more than any of us, so much more than anyone deserves. He looked at me strangely and yet somewhat fearfully, as if he knew what I was thinking and didn't want me to realize what he had been through.

"Am I dreaming, Ronald Weasley?" came a voice from behind me, and I turned around to find the deep brown eyes of Hermione staring back at me.

"Did I just see you look sympathetic? Maybe you hung around Lavender too long last year," she said jokingly, although her voice had a tinge of disgust in it.

Something flashed between me and her at that moment, but before I could try to figure out what it was it was gone. "Har, har," I said sarcastically, although I didn't really mean it. I actually that she was kind of—_DON'T THINK IT—_

...cute when she was teasing me.

Bloody hell. Had I lost all self-respect?

I shook my head slightly as if to dispel the bad thoughts that were circulating in my head.

Hermione turned to Harry. "Well, do you think that we should go for a walk? We could look out for any sign of Death Eater or Voldemort activity," here she paused and looked at me expectantly, and when I didn't do anything she looked sort of surprised and continued, "...and...we might not be able to see Hogsmeade like this again," she finished, all tones of humor gone from her voice.

"Yeah, that's a good idea," said Harry, his voice a strange monotone. "That okay, Ron?"

"Sure," I said, eager to get a chance to put my plan into motion. "Let's go down to Honeydukes and get some candy; I might as well be full if I'm about to help take down the worst Dark wizard in history." Hermione snorted and Harry managed a sort of half-smile before turning back to his half-finished butterbeer dispassionately.

"Alright!" said Hermione, clearly trying to cheer Harry up. "Let's go!" She handed Harry his coat and gestured to me to get up quickly. I complied hurriedly, and then watched as Harry slowly got up and slipped on his overcoat, his face crestfallen. I can honestly say that I have never seen my best mate so depressed in his life other than when Sirius died.

I opened the door and exited the pub, followed closely by Hermione and Harry. It was then that I made the decision to help Harry feel better, even if it would cut into the time I would need to execute my plan.

"What's wrong, mate?" I asked Harry as we followed Hermione down the crowded street.

"It's nothing, Ron," he said quickly, although his body language showed differently.

"C'mon, mate, tell me," I said, somewhat awkwardly. _If Dean could see me doing this, he'd probably be calling me a fairy right now_.

He swallowed hard and then looked at me. "No one knows what it's like having to kill or be killed," Harry said. "There's no choice, you know? One or the other, either leave the world in the hands of a mass murderer or commit a terrible sin. Who the hell decided that prophecies could dictate life? Who the hell decided that fate was going to have the last word over everything that I do or that happens to me in life? It was because of the bloody _prophecy_ that my fucking _parents_ were killed. It was because of the goddamn _prophecy_ that Sirius died, that I've been hunted my entire life by some bastard who thinks he can take over the world."

I froze for a moment, taken aback, before responding. "Wow, mate. I had no idea so much shit was happening to you."

"Yeah, well, generally people don't," said Harry resignedly.

There was a long silence. We walked next to each other feeling extremely close and yet somehow awkward. No matter how good of friends we were or would become, I would never come close to experiencing half of what Harry had, and I knew for a fact that I didn't want to. He had been through a lot in his life that most people hadn't, had burdens placed on him too great to measure. I wished I could say something to make him feel better, but I also knew that I couldn't.

"Well, here's Honeydukes," said Hermione from in front of us, and we both ran ahead to catch up to her. She was standing in front of the candy store, bushy brown hair blowing in the wind, eyes like pools of brown in her eyes, and I thought at that moment that she had never looked more attractive.

Harry and I walked in behind her and began opening and closing boxes of candy with no clear goal in mind. Harry, I thought, was distracting himself like this so he wouldn't have to think about the burden of the prophecy. I, on the other hand, was distracting myself from something much different yet no less intimidating.

Examining a box of Chocolate Frogs, I peered out of the corner of my eye at Hermione. She was examining the boxes labeled "new inventions" with little interest and absentmindedly twirling a strand of her hair around her ear. My heart sped up as I took deep breaths trying to prepare myself for what was ahead.

Finally I decided I was ready and approached Hermione. She looked up at me inquiringly, and I willed myself to speak.

"Hermione? Erm—I—I need to talk to you. Somewhere private."

"O—Okay," said Hermione, sounding—could it be?—somewhat nervous. She didn't move, and I stared at her for a little bit before coming to my senses.

"Er—should we go outside, then?" I asked, and she nodded. I let the way out of Honeydukes, leaving Harry staring at a barrel of Sugar Quills with a neutral expression on his face.

I looked back at Hermione, and she sped up to keep pace with me. I let my legs carry me out in a random direction away from the candy shop (**A/N**: If you even _think_ what I'm thinking here, you might just be as perverted as me). The wind picked up; the day was unusually crisp for that time of year, and the sun shined above as if in defiance of the melancholy mood that had a hold on Harry, Hermione, and myself.

Finally, when I felt that we were far enough away from pedestrians to be bothered or interrupted (**A/N**: See previous author's note), I stopped, and Hermione stumbled before stopping as well. She looked at me curiously.

"What is it?" she asked, eyes questioning.

"Hermione—" I began, but my stomach chose this time to start doing some of the acrobatics that Ginny's romance novels had mentioned, and I was unable to finish.

I saw her eyes widen inexplicably, and Hermione began to look at me somewhat differently, although I couldn't place it. "Yeah?" she said softly after I hadn't made any progress within about a minute.

I swallowed nervously. I put all my willpower into doing what I knew was more important than _anything_, than Voldemort himself, at that moment, and felt my emotions sort of leave my body as I concentrated as hard as I could.

And then I did the hardest thing that I ever had in my life, harder than facing Aragog or than letting my sister go out with my best mate. I stared Hermione directly in the eyes and said what I'd been waiting to say for much too long.

"Hermione, I think I'm in love with you."

- - - -

**A/N** – There comes a time, when a person has been on Fanfiction dot net for a certain period of time, that they begin to use what are called _Cliffhangers of Death_, or _Evil Cliffies_ to the lazier members, usually sugar-high. These are almost a rite of passage on this site, and every author must succumb to this terrible literary device in order to advance a story, get more reviews, or (in my case) when they're too lazy to write any more because of their (edited by FCC) bridge building project in physics class. For these reasons, I feel the use of what may be the aforementioned _Cliffhanger of Death_ is justified in my situation, and will answer all reviews accordingly.

Also, fuck the police.

**Second A/N** – Oh, right. One more thing. I'm going to give some quick messages to my readers: these are NOT review responses. Gylfie: thanks a lot for your support, and I'm so glad that you like it! Emmelz: I'm honored to have reviews from one of the best-reviewed HDM authors...thanks! EE's Skysong: Where are you? Please finish the story; I loved your reviews!


	10. Wonderwall

**Everytime**

Chapter 10- Wonderwall

"_Hermione, I think I'm in love with you."_

There was a pregnant pause. The world around me seemed to cease and fall into itself so that nothing else existed but me and the brown, bushy-haired, book-smart girl standing in front of me that I had had a crush on since I was twelve. To my nervous, unconfident self, the pause seemed like an eternity. Every single second that Hermione stared at me seemed to be a second longer that she had before she realized the utter stupidity of what I had just said and flat-out rejected me. Even though I had seemingly found proof of her crush on me (well, I had always had the proof, but until then been too thick to realize it), there was still a possibility that I was wrong, and the passage of time magnified that possibility in my head.

And then she stepped forward and kissed me.

Although in later years I would see it as the most cliché thing that could have possibly happened in the situation, at the time it was the absolute last thing that I had expected. Her lips captured mine, and immediately I knew that she reciprocated my feelings. It was nothing like kissing Lavender: open-mouthed, wet, and lustful. It was passive and caring, soft yet meaningful. It was like nothing else that I had ever experienced before or ever would experience afterwards. In that moment, Lord Voldemort simply stepped out of existence for a few moments so that this young couple could have a moment to ourselves, and I realized the immensity of Harry's—and our—task. We were fighting for every single thing that Hermione's and my kiss represented, everything that Voldemort was going to take from the world.

"Ronald Bilius Weasley, I've waiting seven years for you to say that to me," she said, "and to be honest, I wasn't planning on waiting much longer."

"So—" My conscious mind was beginning to catch up with just what had happened, and was struggling to make sense of it—"so you really—you like me too? I'm not just being stupid?"

"No," she said. "Really. Um—I'm—I think I might be in love with you too," she said, stammering, and before long one of us had leaned forward again and captured the other's lips in a passionate kiss, and I leaned into her and she leaned into me and, just for that one moment in a chaotic and uncertain world, I was completely and utterly content.

"I've liked you ever since second year," she said. "I don't know what did it—maybe it was getting to spend some time with you outside of school. Maybe it was watching you de-gnoming the garden. Bloody hell, I don't know what it was, but I've felt the same way as long as I can remember."

That was all it took. From then on, I was walking on air. There was nothing and no one in the world that could stop me now, and in an instant everything seemed to make sense. Harry was a brave kid who had a destiny that he didn't deserve and a decent chance at defeating the most powerful Dark wizard in centuries. Hermione was a somewhat shy, always logical, extremely intelligent girl who was thrust into a world she didn't know existed and that she had to try desperately to make sense of what couldn't be made sense of. And I—

I was Ronald Weasley. I was in love with Hermione Jane Granger.

And that was enough.

"Hermione," I said, "I've got to tell you something."

"Oh no," she said, stepping backwards. "Don't tell me that that was all just a daydream or something. And _please_ tell me that I didn't just hallucinate every part besides me kissing you, because that would be terribly awkward."

I snickered softly. She was really funny when she wasn't trying to be funny. At her somewhat offended look, I quickly comforted her. "No. Trust me. I really feel that way about you. Except I have to tell you something that I don't think you're going to believe, and I have to ask you to trust me."

"Okay," she said, face growing curious. "But...what is it?"

"This is the fourth time that I've been through this day," I said quickly, before I could lose my nerve. "The first time, you threw yourself in front of a Killing Curse meant for me. That distracted Harry enough for Voldemort to hit him with a Killing Curse. Once I saw you guys were dead there wasn't much fight left in me, and I died also. But here's where it gets weird.

"I was in this really weird white place, right? It seemed like I was totally alone, so far separated from everyone and everything that I felt like crying. But then I felt this other presence near me. I tried to talk to it, but I found that—wherever this was, maybe I was in heaven—I had no body, and so I couldn't speak. It told me to watch, and then it showed me my own funeral.

"Afterwards it asked me if I had any questions. When I asked where I was and why I was there, it told me that this was the afterlife and that I was going to get a second chance at life. When I asked why, it wouldn't answer. It told me that if I could fix what had caused me to die the first time, then I would stay alive, and of course I realized that if I didn't almost get hit by the Killing Curse then Harry wouldn't die. So I tried to win the battle by myself with my previous knowledge, but it didn't work. I went back to the weird afterlife place and it gave me a second chance, but then I tried to stop you from throwing yourself in front of me by getting you mad and that didn't work either. Finally I realized that I couldn't deny my feelings for you any more, and that I had to tell you in order to have any chance at winning. This is my last chance, Hermione.

"A Killing Curse is going to look like it will hit me during the upcoming battle. I'm asking you, from the bottom of my heart, not to throw yourself in front of it for me. I know you want me to live, and I'd do it for you, but it's because I love you that I'm asking you to make the ultimate sacrifice and not try and save my life. If you do, Harry will die and I won't have the strength to go on and will die anyway. But if you don't, Harry will live and maybe go on to beat Voldemort. So, please, Hermione, don't do it."

Hermione opened her mouth to answer, and my heartbeat quickened to beat a racing tattoo against my chest. Would she even believe me, or would she think I was crazy. Would—

Suddenly the world kind of spun around, and I forgot what I was talking about. I guessed it was just one of those things that Ginny's romance novel had said happened when you were in love.

"What were we talking about?" asked Hermione curiously.

"Doesn't matter," I said, pressing my lips against hers. As I deepened the kiss, she seemed to snap back to reality and kissed me back, the strength of the kiss increasing as we leaned against a building, our tongues darting occasionally into each others' mouths as we experienced each others' tastes for the first time. I know this seems kind of quick for a relationship to escalate, but you have to remember that we were in the middle of a war, on the day of the final battle, and none of us were sure the other one was going to live. In fact—

Hermione pulled away for a moment. "What was it you were asking me earlier?" asked Hermione. "It seems like there was something really important for us to remember, but I've forgotten."

"Me too," I said. And then suddenly I had it. "Oh, right. Hermione—listen to me. I know this sounds bad, but I've thought a lot about the battle coming up. One of us might die, but if we do I don't want the other one to lose their life too. Because if you died, I honestly don't know if I want to live."

"Oh, Ron," she said. "That's so sweet..."

"Please promise me," I said stubbornly. "I couldn't bear it if you died taking a Killing Curse meant for me."

There was a long pause. Hermione seemed to be struggling with something inside herself. Finally she looked me in the eyes again and responded.

"Okay, Ron. If you promise me not to do the same thing."

I hadn't thought of it that way, and for a few moments I felt as though I would have to lie to her. Finally, though, the strength to do as she asked found me, and I responded in turn.

"Okay, Hermione. I promise."

That day would later go down in history as the best day of my life. It passed too quickly, as good days often do, but during the little time we had Hermione and I enjoyed ourselves greatly. We got Harry from Honeydukes and told him the good news, receiving his halfhearted congratulations in the process.

"I knew this was going to happen, guys, but couldn't it have waited until after the biggest battle of my life?" he asked jokingly, and Hermione and I both stifled our laughter.

Afterwards, we took Harry back to the Three Broomsticks, and before long Hermione and I went out for a walk after promising not to leave the block and to Apparate—or run if there was an Anti-Apparition Ward—back to him as soon as possible in the case of a Death Eater attack. Once out of the Three Broomsticks, we resumed our previous routine of constantly kissing each other and professing our feelings to each other. Honestly, it was probably the least manly day of my life, but at the time I didn't care. I was in love.

Finally, the day ended as the sun crept completely over the horizon. There was a loud boom, and Hermione and I took only a moment to collect ourselves before running back to the pub and Harry.

"Ready?" asked Harry, and Hermione and I looked at each other for a moment before responding in unison.

"Ready. Let's go."

- - - -

**A/N**- For some reason I feel like this chapter particularly sucks, so please review if you disagree and let me know. Also, I promise that Ron didn't forget what he was saying in the middle of the story because I stopped and came back and forgot it. Finally, there will only be one or two chapters left at most, so I hope you have enjoyed the story so far and come back for the conclusion! Until then,

KaiserMonkey


	11. Hands Down

**Everytime**

Chapter 11 – Hands Down

The chaotic streets around us held no significance to me; the screams of people and the roaring of giants all around me did little to stir any emotion. For me, there were only a few things that mattered. One was making sure that the wizarding world was purged of the scourge that was Voldemort. The other was making sure that neither Hermione nor I died in the battle and that I wouldn't lose her the day that I realized the extent of what I felt.

The streets around us were home to several small skirmishes, but nothing to attract our interest. The occasional flashes of light from the field outside of Hogsmeade served as a signal to guide us to the spot where we were needed most—the spot where the attack was being launched from. The spot where Voldemort and his Death Eaters were. We brushed past the fleeing forms of several Hogsmeade citizens who had failed to heed our warning earlier in the day and were now probably regretting their decision. The entire time that we were fleeing through the unpredictable darkness of the initial stages of the Battle of Hogsmeade I barely noticed a thing. The screams and flashes of the eerily lit Hogsmeade streets became an unidentified blur. At some point during this episode I happened to look Harry in the eyes and see his staunch determination staring back at me. This bolstered my confidence more than any statement by the Minister or any amount of Auror reinforcements could. And yet in that one look I saw something slightly frightening, something that I couldn't quite place my finger on but that was going to come back with some greater meaning, that I knew for a fact. And yet there was no time to do nothing but run, so we did.

And then we ran some more. My feet eventually became unconscious of hitting the ground; although I was running as fast as I could and dodging curses and giants alike, an eerie calm was descending over my entire body. I looked over at Hermione, who caught my eye and smiled. We could die in this battle; that was true. But if we did, we would die happy.

Finally, the screams and flashes of light magnified greatly, causing Harry to tense next to me. What waited ahead of me was going to be the most important battle of my life, and yet somehow none of that was important. Instead, something inside my body was taking over, something strange yet easily recognizable, scary yet eerily reassuring. I did not yet know what it was, but all the same I trusted it to guide me. And guide me it did.

I flew onto the battlefield, throwing curses every which way, Harry and Hermione by my side. We formed a sort of triangle, each of us shooting curses from a corner and casting shields whenever a curse was about to hit us from any side. In this way we made a great deal of headway against the attacking Death Eaters, managing to throw a few aside unconscious with the force of our combined Stunning Spells. Harry was throwing Imperius Curses indiscriminately, the curse being the only Unforgivable that we could bear to allow Harry to use. By simply making the recipients of the curse Stun and Body-Bind themselves we could save a great deal of time on the battlefield, valuable time that could be used to defeat other Death Eaters instead. Suddenly, out of nowhere, Harry fell to the ground, writhing in pain from a Cruciatus Curse that had managed to break our boundaries. But suddenly the battle around me seemed to fade away and allow me to concentrate on simply defeating the Death Eater that was there, and I managed to easily dispatch of him with a well-aimed _Sectumsempra_ curse before he could do so much as react. Within seconds Harry was back onto his feet and fighting by our sides.

"Wotcher, you three!" came a voice from next to us, and when I looked after a deluge of curses failed to shatter Hermione's shield, I found a pink-haired and vivacious Tonks fighting next to us. She was challenging her beloved Aunt Bella when a sudden Avada Kedavra from the side forced me to throw Hermione and Harry to the ground, Stunning our would-be assassin.

While the battle had begun chaotically, the way it had become was anything but. The Death Eaters, seeing the formation of the Golden Trio, were apparently ordered by their master to organize as well, because soon mini-battalions of Death Eaters were splitting off and fighting their way towards us. The Aurors that were present at the battle, by way of retribution, formed a perimeter around us, taking many curses that otherwise would have found their mark in Harry, Hermione, or I. I noticed happily that we were diverting the attention of most of Voldemort's forces away from attacking the town of Hogsmeade and towards our makeshift attacking formation. We rotated incessantly, the bursts of light from our wands taking out countless Death Eaters in every direction. The tide of battle was slowly but surely turning in the favor of the Light, based greatly on the actions of Harry, Hermione, and me.

When almost all the Death Eaters had fallen, the Aurors around us fell away, instead forming squads and attacking the individual remaining Death Eaters full force. One by one they picked off the remaining members of Voldemort's cult, leaving the Death Eater army disheartened and shorthanded. It seemed that soon the battle would be over. Hermione and I looked at each other once again, smiles on our faces.

And then suddenly the happy shouts of Aurors began to fade and an inexplicable pall fell over the battlefield. Instead of the remaining Death Eaters taking jets of red light and falling unconscious to the ground, a new barrage of green, like some alien tidal wave, took the lives of almost half of the Aurors surrounding us. Without even having to see the evil red eyes staring at me, I knew Lord Voldemort had arrived.

Hermione and I raised our wands and pointed them in the direction of greatest darkness, preparing to continue the fight. But Harry raised his hand silently and, without a word, broke off from our group, muttering something that sounded strangely like "_Sonorous_" as he left.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle," came the familiar voice from somewhere in the murk ahead of me. Every Death Eater and Auror in the region stopped fighting, instead choosing to stare into the darkness in hopes of seeing the incredibly brave man that hid somewhere within it who dared to challenge the most powerful Dark Lord in centuries.

"Harry Potter," came the magically magnified voice from the other side of the battlefield. "At last you speak. What took you so long?"

"I was just destroying your army," Harry said, and I smiled at his nerve. "Sorry that it took so long, but I didn't want to make it look _too_ easy, or I might lose my reputation as the modest hero."

"Big words for someone who's going to die in a matter of minutes," said Voldemort, and the smile that had briefly appeared on my face faded as quickly as it had come. "You know not my true power, Harry Potter. For example, I happen to know that the old fool Dumbledore told you, before his _unfortunate_ death last year, of the formation of several Horcruxes on my part?"

_Oh, shit._

"Yes, that is right, Potter," continued the foul beast that stood somewhere in our vicinity. "I know much more than I would let on. Do you honestly think that I would challenge the entire wizarding world without a great deal of power to lean on? Do you honestly think that someone like me, someone who has gone further into magic than any wizard or witch in the history of the world has ever done before, could even be scratched by a mere boy?"

"The answer is no on all counts, Potter. My power extends beyond human comprehension. I am not a mere wizard anymore, Potter. I am a god. I am more than a god. You have no idea..."

"I know that you've got a god _complex_," said Harry, speaking for the first time since Voldemort's surprise revelation, "but that's something entirely different. You see, Voldemort—_flight from death_—the strength of our side lies in the fact that we _aren't_ gods. We aren't anything but wizards. We aren't anything but mere humans. But, Tom Riddle, we know it. We don't try to take over the world. We don't believe that we can kill someone that is immortal. But we will try anyway. And we will die before we let the world fall into the hands of a sadistic monster like you."

A loud cheer rose up from several of the Aurors in the region, and Voldemort seemed to notice them for the first time, for a loud growl resounded throughout the mist. Suddenly three twin streams of green light shot out from the darkness, and the body count of the bloodiest battle in wizarding history increased by three. The noise died down extremely quickly.

"Do you see now, Potter?" whispered Voldemort almost lovingly. "Do you see now the futility of your cause? Without a word on my part I create death from life. Yet I can create life from death just as easily. Would you like to see, Potter? Let's get rid of this blasted darkness," he said, and suddenly the entire battlefield lit up like a sun. Before our eyes could adjust to the sudden brightness, however, Hermione and I were bound head to foot by invisible ropes that left no tension whatsoever for us to move in. Harry threw an Imperius Curse at Voldemort, but a simple wave of his wand caused the curse to dissipate.

"Temper, temper, Potter," said Voldemort teasingly. "The show hasn't even begun yet. _Crucio!_"

There was a flash of light, and suddenly Harry was writhing on the ground in pain. I wondered at first why the Aurors surrounding us didn't do anything, but I realized that Voldemort and Harry were the only ones in the entire field that could move. Voldemort must have thought that it was strangely befitting for the last stand of wizardkind to be a one-on-one battle.

Voldemort moved closer to Harry and cast the curse again. Through it all, somehow, Harry did not scream. The cause was revealed to us when Voldemort lifted the spell briefly and we saw the blood pouring out of Harry's mouth—he had been biting his own tongue with enough force to puncture straight through it.

"You haven't screamed yet?" asked Voldemort in a singsong voice. "Well. Bella would be ashamed of me. Let's see if we can fix that. _Crucio! Crucio! Crucio! Crucio!_"

Voldemort moved step by step closer to Harry until he was but inches away from his prostrate body, casting the Cruciatus Curse each time. Eventually the pool of blood surrounding Harry became enough for him to begin to lose consciousness, and Voldemort briefly gave him a break until he was fully conscious again. My emotions at the time ranged from wanting to curse God down into hell for allowing such a thing to occur on Earth and from wanting to literally curse Voldemort down into hell for doing such a thing to my best friend.

Finally the Cruciatus Curses ceased. Harry did not move from his place on the ground.

"Do you think you have suffered yet, Potter?" said Voldemort horribly. "You do not know true suffering. Soon you will begin to see just why it is truly a curse to have those that you care about."

Time seemed to freeze in that instant. Slowly, something within me realized what it was that Voldemort was about to do, and the world before me swum in some sort of flux that was visible only to me. But it was too late.

"_Avada Kedavra!_" shouted Voldemort, thrusting his wand at Hermione. The curse shot out of his wand and seemed to move torturously slowly towards Hermione, the until-then-unrealized love of my life and the one person I cared about more than anything in the world. And yet no matter what I did to try and save her, I could do nothing but watch as the horrible green light swam its way sickeningly towards the person I cared about more than anything.

"_Fuck you_," came the whisper of pure hatred from Harry's lips before utilizing his remaining strength and throwing himself in front of Hermione, taking the Killing Curse in his chest.

I can honestly say that when the savior of the wizarding world died, there was no fanfare. There was no bang. There was no miracle, no period of ascent into the sky, no great period of mourning. He was simply alive one moment, throwing himself with all his might into the path of Voldemort's Killing Curse, and then dead and lying motionless on the ground the next.

_No._

The battle was over. There was no hope left. Harry was dead; Voldemort had won. Hermione and I were both going to die just when we had found what we wanted the most.

_Hermione. No._

I could move again. A beam of light shot out from my feet and covered the surrounding area, freezing everyone else in a sort of temporary stasis. Voldemort was left unscathed, as I knew he would, staring at me.

"Ronald Weasley?" he said disbelievingly. "The Muggle-lover's son? How on earth are you able to hold such great power?"

"That's right," I said, although the words felt foreign coming out of my mouth, as though they were not mine but a response to an order given to me by someone with more control over events than myself. "Ronald Weasley. Descendant of Godric Gryffindor."

Voldemort's face paled with shock, then filled with an expression of acceptance. "You are the descendant of Gryffindor?" he breathed. "How...unlikely. But then, you can do nothing to me now. None but Potter could defeat me, and he is gone. I have made every preparation to avoid death, and now I have conquered it. Not even Gryffindor himself could defeat me now. _Avada Kedavra!_" he shouted before I could move. The curse hit me head-on, and my vision filled with green light. Inside my body was an incredible ache to let go, to give up and be free with Harry. I felt my body leave my control...and then suddenly I regained it, and I was standing upright again and staring Voldemort in the face, Hermione's image flashing through my mind.

"How on earth did you..." gasped Voldemort, seeming briefly astonished. "But—it is no matter. You will never defeat me. I am immortal."

"We'll see," I said bravely, although inside I felt as though my insides were turning to mush. What was I doing?

"Indeed we shall," the bastard said, red eyes narrowing to slits. "But before we do, answer me this. Why do you and your friends insist on filling your heads with this _love_ bullshit when it is so _impractical_ in the end? The very idea of being willing to sacrifice yourself and your entire life for even one other person is preposterous. You know that you will always be hurt in the end."

"And that's why you'll never know your only weakness," I said. Then, summoning every single ounce of strength remaining within me, I shouted, "_Avada Kedavra!_"

I didn't really expect the curse to work. In the excitement of the moment, I thought that my brave words could possibly create the amount of force that I needed to defeat him, but even then I had my doubts. So you could understand my astonishment when the curse hit Voldemort dead-on, causing him to crash backwards onto the ground. A high-pitched scream filled the air as his body began to dissolve into dust. A flash of white light erupted from the scene around me, and every member of the Light side could move again, running towards Voldemort's decaying body and staring in amazement.

Hermione was by my side somehow. I murmured, "Of course. Harry was his last Horcrux. We're done now. It's over." Then I fell to the ground utterly exhausted and allowed my injured body to remove my mind from consciousness.


	12. Eight of Nine

**Everytime**

Chapter 12 – Eight of Nine

Everything was white. The whiteness was all-encompassing and surrounded me, making me feel a little claustrophobic. Where on Earth was I? The last thing I remembered was Harry's final curse against Voldemort before he threw himself in front of the Killing Curse meant for Hermione, followed by my own rage against Voldemort and then...nothing.

I struggled to get up and move around but found my arms and legs strangely nonfunctional. It was as if they simply didn't exist. Almost as if...

Wait. Was I dead?

_No, Ronald Weasley, I can assure you that you are not dead._

"What the hell?" I struggled to shout, but nothing came out. Something extremely strange had happened to my body, that was for sure. Body parts that I had been certain that I had, such as my mouth, arms, and legs, would not respond to my mental commands. If I was not dead, then where was I?

Then came the voice again. _You need not speak to ask me questions; simply think them and I shall answer. And in response to your first question, you are...in limbo. In a place not here nor there. Between your plane and mine._

What the bloody hell? I simply did nothing for several minutes, attempting to process what had just happened, but my mind remained in shock. It took quite a while for me to work up the nerve to ask another question, but when I was finally ready I took the strange being's advice.

_What do you mean, 'between your plane and mine'? Where am I?_

_Some call it purgatory_, responded the voice. _It is nothingness, neither good nor evil. It is simply blank, empty._

I had been slightly religiously educated by my family, but I knew enough (my mother's family being Catholic) to understand what I was being presented with. And I began to freak out.

_Then—then—no w—then who are you?_

_Please calm down, Ronald,_ responded the bodiless voice. _It will be much easier to hold a conversation with you if you do not panic._

I couldn't stop panicking. Something far, far beyond my understanding was occurring at that moment, and nothing that I had done in my entire life could have begun to prepare me for it. _Who are you?_ I asked again, a hint of desperation in my voice.

_That is a difficult question to answer. I go by many names—the One, Yahweh, Allah. God. Brahman. I am everywhere and everything in every universe, and I cannot be defined in mere words._

That was it. I must have died; died and gone to heaven. There was no way I was speaking with _God_. Maybe if I somehow found a way to wake up from unconsciousness, the strange hallucination would end and I would be free to return to normal life without going too crazy. In real life, I could see Hermione again...although not Harry. Harry, the poor boy thrust into a destiny that he neither wanted nor deserved. Harry, the hero trapped in a scrawny boy's body. Harry, my best friend. He was gone. There was no bringing him back.

_Harry..._

_Ronald, I must ask that you calm down_, said the voice—_God_, I guess—and an ecstatic feeling fell over my very being, happiness so strong that it countered the depression created by watching my best friend die. I was eleven and sharing a corned beef sandwich with Harry. I was twelve and flying above the clouds in my dad's illegally enchanted Ford Anglia. I was thirteen and making up Divination predictions with Harry in front of the common room fire. I was fourteen and at the Quidditch World Cup. I was fifteen and dueling by his side at the Department of Mysteries.

_Now, Ronald, I must insist that you ask me another question._

_Why am I here?_ I asked, calmed by the flood of positive memories.

_Your case is extremely unique. Since you accomplished the task set to you, you will be permitted to return to the world of the living in a few moments._

_World of the—what are you talking about? Lord?_ I asked, remembering who I was talking to and beginning to feel uncomfortable again. The flood of positive memories had its effect, however, and soon I was completely calm again.

_You do not remember_, said God, _because you are not permitted to. Once the task is done, the tried cannot be allowed to remember his or her situation in the case that he or she lives. _

_So I had to complete a task?_ I asked, strangely complacent.

_Yes, you did,_ came the prompt and succinct answer. _You succeeded._

_What did I do?_

_You have lived through the final battle with Voldemort four times,_ came the disembodied voice, and once again I felt shocked, but only for a moment. Later on I would see just how effective the flood of good memories was in keeping me from becoming confused or sad.

_How is that possible?_ I asked, struggling to maintain my composure.

_You had several second chances,_ came the response, this time with a slight tinge of humor to it.

_At life? Why me?_

_Because Hermione Jane Granger, the woman who is in love with you, sacrificed her life for yours, setting off an ancient form of blood magic. But that is not all. You are also a distant heir of Godric Gryffindor, and he was strongly vouching for you during your attempts._

_Why didn't the curse rebound upon Voldemort, like Harry's mum's sacrifice caused Voldemort's Avada Kedavra to that day when Harry was one?_ I asked confusedly.

_Simply because you had more to do on Earth. Your unique situation—your ancestor being who he was—afforded you several one-of-a-kind opportunities as well._

_And the most recent was the last one?_ I asked. _Why couldn't I save Harry's life if I had that many chances?_

_Because it is not as easy as it sounds to change the future. The first three times, you insisted on continuing to pretend that you were not in love with Hermione. For this reason, you failed to learn the lesson that you were meant to and were allowed to continue._

My mind was swimming. Everything that had happened was too overwhelming; the flow of good thoughts was barely maintaining my composure and sanity. I struggled to pick one question out of the deluge of them coming from my mind, but at last I decided on one.

_How was I able to kill Voldemort?_ I asked, unloading the one thing that had been on my mind ever since the battle. _I thought that the prophecy stated that only Harry could kill Voldemort._

_The prophecy stated that 'neither can live while the other survives'_, came the response. _But after Harry had died—and consequently the final Horcrux destroyed, for Voldemort made Harry a Horcrux after trying to kill him at Godric's Hollow—anyone could kill Voldemort._

_Do you have any more questions?_ asked the voice—God—when He had finished His explanation.

_Just one_, I replied, feeling in my soul the white place around me beginning to crumble. _How was I able to wield the power needed to take out all those Death Eaters and Voldemort in the final battle?_

_Ronald Bilius Weasley, you are a very distant descendent of the Gryffindor line, and Godric Gryffindor held extraordinary powers, which he passed along to each member of his ancestry. In the last five hundred years, the powers have been dormant in each heir, but under considerable physical or mental stress the powers tend to awaken. Your stress was enough to activate them during one of your first attempts._

The white place around me was shimmering now; everything was falling away. I heard one last voice echo throughout my mind.

_Good luck, Ronald Weasley, and well done,_ said God before the world collapsed altogether and I fell into blackness.

- - - -

I groaned. White light was falling into my eyes, tugging me out of the peaceful sleep that I had maintained for almost two days. I shielded my face from the sun with my right arm, glancing around sleepily. The weightiness of the situation hit me only after my eyes made the rounds around the room several times and discovered that I was now lying in a hospital bed at St. Mungo's.

I had defeated Voldemort. Not only that, but Harry was gone. And he was never coming back. Voldemort, the bastard, had made sure of that. How was I going to get by?

I suddenly jolted back to attention as I heard a rustling on the other side of my door. The door opened and Hermione entered, her brown hair gently framing her face, concern for me seeping out of every inch of her body.

Upon seeing me alive and conscious, she burst into tears, throwing herself at my arm, which was resting on the side of my bed, and hugging it fiercely. I looked at her, eyes watering, trying desperately not to let me see what bad condition she was in, her flowing down her face, and suddenly everything made sense.

"Shh..." I whispered softly to her, and her eyes rose slowly until they met mine. "It's okay, 'Mione. It's okay."

"You promise?" she asked, sniffling and pulling my arm closer.

"I promise," I said, with more confidence than I had felt at any other time in my life. "I'm not going anywhere."

I was Ronald Weasley.

I was in love with Hermione Granger.

And that was enough.

- - - -

**A/N**- (Strong Bad impersonation) It's over! It's also incredibly ironic how well "Eight of Nine" by The Ataris fits this chapter. I looked for the lyrics because I remembered the recovery from disaster theme, and at the very end of the song I find:

_Appreciate the good times,_

_But don't take the worst for granted_

'_Cause you only get so many second chances._

One of the themes of this story. Anyway, on that fitting note, here ends Everytime, my first attempt at a romance fic and, although not the best, somewhat review-garnering. At the time of this post, I have 57 reviews for 11 chapters, which is pretty good. I want to dedicate this chapter to my most loyal reviewers:

**EE's Skysong** (Looked forward to your review every time!)

**Gylfie** (Seriously, I don't think I'm as good as you make me out to be, but thanks!)

To everyone else who reviewed, it's not like I don't appreciate it, it's just that if I responded to each and every one of you I'd probably be reported to mods and they'd have this story taken down. Anyway, I doubt this story is going to have a sequel, but if you think it should please review and tell me!

I've chosen this part of the story to add a few more author's notes that I thought you readers might find interesting. If you want to skip this, there's no more story down here (it's not like I put deleted scenes at the end or something...or did I?). Anyway:

Each of the chapters in this story is named after a song that I thought fit the mood. Following is a list of all the songs and their artists.

Chapter 1 – The Future Freaks Me Out – Motion City Soundtrack

Chapter 2 – Second Heartbeat – Avenged Sevenfold

Chapter 3 – Just a Simple Plan – Piebald

Chapter 4 – Inside Out – Eve 6

Chapter 5 – Waiting – Green Day  
Chapter 6 – Thoughts before Me – Amber Pacific

Chapter 7 – Everytime – Simple Plan

Chapter 8 – Epiphany – Bad Religion

Chapter 9 – The Everglow – Mae

Chapter 10 – Wonderwall – Oasis

Chapter 11 – Hands Down – Dashboard Confessional

Chapter 12 – Eight of Nine – The Ataris

The initial idea for this book (and the main plot point) was taken from the young adult science fiction novel Rewind by William Sleator. In it, a boy named Peter is hit by a car and killed on the first page. However, he arrives at some strange place, in which he is given a second chance at life. He decides to fill the car's gas tank with sugar in order to stop himself from dying, but he is only hit by another car instead. He's given another chance, and this time he decides (since he is killed after running out into the road and the reason he did so is because his parents disapproved of his enthusiasm for art) to get more into sports and try and please them. But that doesn't work either, because as it turns out he argues with his parents about something else and gets killed again. Finally, at the end of the book, he realizes that the only way that he can live is to be satisfied with who he is, and he throws himself into his art project, actually garnering some praise from his intolerant parents. Because he doesn't have the argument or get mad, he doesn't run out into the road, thus allowing him to stay alive.

I used this premise as the basis for this fic. My idea came when I was thinking about how, in Half-Blood Prince, Ron and Hermione are obviously on the verge of getting together, but they are both so stubborn that I thought it might actually take an act of God to bring them together. Well, Ron got his act of God, and, like Peter in Rewind, he learns that the only way he can save himself is by being satisfied with who he is and how he feels.

Well, that's it with the author's notes. I hope you enjoyed! And, one final time, this is KaiserMonkey, and...

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